


renew pt I

by Lilypad_Padlily



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 133
Words: 344,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilypad_Padlily/pseuds/Lilypad_Padlily
Summary: Amarantha’s reign has ended. But Hybern has just struck and it’s only afforded the fae a couple months of reprieve. All the courts unite to fight Hybern and the Cauldron but after Amarantha’s tyranny, this may not be enough to fight off the coming onslaught. Despite their agreement to fight together, banning together after years of division will prove a challenge. Feyre is coming to terms with the end of her human life. But she is being thrown into a war with powers that seem to be uncontrollable and Tamlin fears the repercussions of her new abilities. In a time of war, being weak isn’t an option she can afford.This fic. picks up after ACOTAR.
Relationships: Cresseida/Morrigan (ACoTaR), Elain Archeron/Azriel, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Nesta Archeron/Morrigan
Comments: 644
Kudos: 261





	1. Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Erneuerung](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682682) by [Meritites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meritites/pseuds/Meritites)



> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters. 
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else. 
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

Hybern had attacked. It was an answer to what I had suspected and the source of many more questions for what would come. The summer court had been the first to feel Hyberns terror. After only a couple months of peace from Amarantha’s reign, I knew they weren’t prepared. I could practically smell the blood on the wind. Azriel’s report this morning had depicted a gruesome picture of what would await us when we arrived. 

I expected to feel rage but instead I felt bitter.  _ I had warned them _ . After Hybern had sent soldiers to retrieve the legs of the Cauldron, I had warned the other courts. That Hybern would turn against us. If the court had deigned to send a reply, it had reminded me that I had been Amarantha’s whore and that made me Hybern’s as well. I wish I could have told them they were wrong. 

And now, the carnage in the summer court had verified my suspicion in a terrible way. Hybern wasn’t going to spare effort separating out citizens from soldiers. Everyone in Pyrthian was going to die until Hybern was the last ruler left of it’s ashes. I knew that Hybern would promise to keep those who surrendered in positions of relative power. I knew that the moment Hybern disarmed us, we would be killed. Hybern didn’t share well. My stomach ached at the thought of another long war.

High Lord Tarquin had sent calls for help to every court. In his letter, he had described in intense detail how Hybern’s ships had stormed the shore, set fire to the city and then let loose monsters to wreak havoc. Cauldron-inspired creatures tore into the people without mercy or pause. It wasn’t bad enough that Hybern was killing indiscriminately but he had to find new and inventive ways to kill. The fire and creatures had caused chaos and damage in the city streets that Tarquin’s army wasn’t prepared for. Then, Hybern had released a thousand troops on the shore to take care of the rest. No fae that had been within three leagues of the shoreline survived. Chances were slim for a ten league radius past that. Tarquin couldn’t even spare a glance at his dead. Instead, all soldiers had been ordered to collect any citizens they could and flee, leaving corpses to settle and rot in the summer heat. Women. Men. Children. All wiped away like they hadn’t lived a day before thinking themselves free and lucky to have survived Amarantha. 

Mor was currently playing ambassador of the Night Court, helping to relocate Tarquin’s refugees. She had arranged a small team of her choosing to arrive and provide efficient care for injured persons. All courts had answered the call for aid. Currently, all Summer citizens and troops were moving into the Spring court until further planning could be done. A meeting was to be had in a couple of nights between all High Lords at the border of Summer and Autumn courts to decide how to fight Hybern. 

Again, that bitter side of me reminded me that I had raised these issues a month prior and had been laughed at. Dismissed like a traitor. I gritted my teeth. I felt so shameful for my anger at the other courts and yet some prideful part of me yelled at the tragedy that happened in the summer court.  _ We could have prevented it.  _ Past this, there was no excuse. 

Standing at the balcony in the House of the Wind, I surveyed the mountains in silence. Cassian was raising the banners of the Illyrian troops and tomorrow I would petition the Court of Nightmares. I dreaded the meetings that would occur once both armies agreed to fight. A preemptive headache was already forming behind my eyes. 

Mor would remain in the summer court until our forces could arrive. Amren would remain in Velaris though this order was tentative. In the chance that we were overwhelmed, I would release Amren and pray that the world would survive the outcome. Azriel was performing some reconnaissance. My tasks were handled. My family would support me in this, practically gnawing at me for more obstacles they could face for me. I knew they did this out of affection for me but it left me without a task for blissful distraction. Given too much time to myself and I would ponder and itch, wallowing in a circus of thoughts that only created more misery. 

A knock on the door and I was already waving the door open.  _ So eager _ , I chided myself. “The damage is as we thought,” Azriel had returned. He gave me a weary look when he took in my straight back and hands deathly still at my sides. His skin was covered in a layer of dirt from traveling and even some dried blood. His cotton tunic beneath the Illyirian leathers was soiled with ominous stains. Spending the last week in the woods had not been easy. “Hybern’s troops have no lack for target practice,” Azriel’s jaw twitched and tightened at this. His shadows danced erratically.

My irritation quickly fed the rage. I bowed and shook my head. “We won’t barter any surrender. I want them all dead.” 

“We will get them. There will be no escape,” Azriel promised. “The summer court has barges that act as obstacles...preventing access to the shore. At least not without warning well in advance. I don’t know how Hybern has gotten past them.” 

“You can sink a barge, though it’s hard,” I raised an eyebrow. 

“They were still afloat. Abandoned but there,” Azriel replied quickly, knowing that I’d ask the obvious. I shot him a confused look. “I thought at first they were misted but there was nothing. It’s almost like the soldiers on deck vanished.” 

“Keep looking for an answer. If Hybern can simply  _ vanish  _ people out of existence, we are going to need a lot more than just training and some people who can fly.” 

“And more than some stuffy high lords.” 

I gave Azriel a flat look. He gave a shy smile and ducked his head. “Did you want to know about the girl?” he asked, staring at his boots.

That froze me. I had wanted to turn back to the window to hear this report but now Azriel would see my entire reaction. I kept my features schooled and gave my best expression of aloofness but with Azriel I never knew if that was enough. I motioned for him to continue and he perched himself on a couch by the fire. “She remains at the spring court manor. When she leaves, she has two spring court guards with her and they always go to the nearest town and return within the hour. Never any later than afternoon tea will they depart. Trying to get close to her is a challenge without being detected, it being the spring court.” Azriel’s shadows were no match for the light of day when shadows rarely graced the tranquil spring court. “I can’t sense anything from her when she leaves.”

“What do you make of that?” I held my breath. 

“I think they are training her to control herself but beyond that, I can’t be sure. She looks no different.” 

“Alright, that’s enough for now. Keep surveillance running until further notice.” Though I knew it was invasive, I couldn’t keep myself sane without it. Nightly I woke in terrors and sweats and if it hadn’t been my own nightmare it was hers leaching their way into my mind. It was always the same old fears redesigned into a new terrible setting. Amarantha choking her. The Attor clawing out her eyes. Watching innocent people be slaughtered. Slaughtering innocent people herself. Inventive nightmares that refused to leave her alone. The bond we shared kept me in the loop on her and I refused to regret it but it gave me new fears. Even during the day my mind was not my own. At seemingly random times, thoughts would cross my mind and distract me. Now I could readily identify them but I didn’t dare invade her mind to look further. 

Azriel was still waiting by the door, looking at me with a questioning look. “Is there more?” 

“Surveillance on what matter?” 

It took me a moment to replay our conversation. “On both Hybern and on Feyre.” 

I never justified it to Azriel. Or Cassian for that matter. The only person who knew my reasons was Mor who I had spilled my guts to when I had winnowed home following Amarantha’s demise. I wanted to tell them but I didn’t expect it to continue this long. At first, I only wanted to know she was safe. Inside the spring court, I know that’s asking a bit much but I needed to know that she would find life after all the death and misery we experienced Under the Mountain. That’s what I told myself at least. 

Azriel’s first report had painted a disturbingly perfect picture. She was more than alright. She was thriving. Spending mornings riding and hunting in the woods and then afternoons lounging in the grass with her lover. Life had moved on for her. Tamlin had even spent one night throwing an extensive party in her honor where the main event was him getting on one knee and proposing to her. Azriel had described this in great detail. Tamlin had told a great story for all invited how he had found her and how she had saved us all from Amarantha’s reign. Of course, he had neglected to share the details of his own ineptitude and how countless times he watched her get beaten with the rest of his court. But of course, so had I. Though Tamlin had spent an equal amount of time reassuring all attendees that Feyre marrying him would only aid his effort to rebuild the spring court. I, at least, knew better than to try and change public perception of me. 

In a tunic of vibrant green and gold, he had knelt on a carpeted lawn. Before a fountain that had flowers and fairy lights floating in it’s pools. I almost wanted to choke at this detail. From his pocket he produced a golden ring with a large emerald set within. On either side were small blue diamonds arranged in the form of a flower. She had choked back a sob, falling to her own knees to accept the ring and place a kiss on his lips. Azriel said not a single member of the court was not crying though his own face remained composed and flat in a comical sense. 

After that, I had spent the night flying over Velaris, trying to accept her peace.

And for a short period, I had. Bitterness still lived within me but when I thought on it, I knew that if I myself could not be happy then I would hope she would be as well. Though a very real and aching part of me desired that life with her, I knew that I would accept reality and do my best to be happy for hers. Like that, life had moved on for my court. Azriel wasn’t ordered to spy on her and my court reconnected slowly. I found that our nights at a dinner table was what I had sorely missed. The banter and stories of their times while I had been away was my happiness. 

Then the nightmares came. Except these nightmares weren’t mine. I was a passenger in them, living them without truly making any of the decisions. I watched while playing no part, only experiencing.

In the early hours of the morning, I was overcome with the sensation of immersion. My skin was covered in thick sludge and I found I was in a pit, covered in mud that smelled of rot and sewage. I was reaching for a protruding bone in the mud but the further I reached, the more my feet were drug under. I could hear in the distance a rumbling approaching that got louder and louder. With every reach, I thought my legs were being crushed. As my hands groped the mud, trying to find anything with real purchase, the rumbling grew to a crescendo that left my ears ringing. Turning, I saw the Middengard wyrm barreling down the chasm towards me with teeth bared. 

That was when I woke in a sweat. 

Lunging from my bed, I vomited on the floor and paused, kneeling. The middengard wyrm had been terrifying and after watching too many fae be eaten, I had become too accustomed with it’s special type of terror. Though in all the fifty years I had remained captive in Amarantha’s bed chamber, I had never experienced a nightmare of the middengard wyrm. No. Not where I was going to be eaten. My fears were for Cassian, who Amarantha had once in a nightmare torn off his wings and left him in the pit with the wyrm to die. Or Mor, who became the nightly entertainment for all sorts of cruel endeavors Amarantha designed. Azriel, stuffed back into a cage. 

I didn’t know the answer until the next night when I had watched Amarantha twist Tamlin’s head until bones stuck out and she could rest it pertly on the arm of her throne chair.  _ These weren’t my nightmares.  _ Tamlin’s head could have been converted into an ornament for Yule for all I cared. But she would care. This finally answered why I was always helpless each time. I couldn’t control my body because it wasn’t mine but hers. 

From that day on, Azriel would spend a day or two surveying the spring court every two weeks to report to me what he saw. I didn’t know what changed in her life for the nightmares to begin. Something had disrupted her life and I was itching to know what. But Azriel’s reports had been sparse. With her under constant guard, I was left wondering. 

To justify it, I had told him that I believed Feyre would become a key player in the war to come. That was only partially true. The other half was that Feyre was my mate. Even if Tamlin was going to marry her. Even though I would never be good enough to deserve that sort of happiness, I would protect hers with my entire being. 

In the coming war, I knew this job would be full time. 


	2. Exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: There are topics in this chapter that might be disturbing to some readers including depression and rape. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Tamlin would return tomorrow. It would be a day later than planned. I felt the part of the fool for having set up a picnic out in the center of his land. My humiliation was complete knowing Bronn and Hart had to watch as I lugged everything back to the spring court manner. I refused their assistance since it was my folly to begin with. All my preparations would be for naught. So I handed them to Alis and told her to take the afternoon for herself. She had given me a sad look and I doubted she’d use the picnic basket but hopefully after enough time had passed she would see that there would never be a use for it in our relationship. 

Not a single trip had Tamlin returned on time or in a manner that would pair with picnicking. Usually, he returned exhausted and bloody, eager for either a bed partner, a nap or a bath. 

The only positive to this was that I formally declared to myself that I was done wasting time planning _events_. I would use this to show him that my planning was wasted and I was of better use somewhere else. I knew this to be true. I had spent months in Amarantha’s dungeon, fighting and bargaining for my life and his and yet now I was expected to be content planning parties? 

The spring court might have been ready to move onto lovely parties and relaxing social events but my mind was firmly planted in survival mode. I had stolen a knife from the dinner table and kept it by my bedside. My next move was to procure a whet stone from the armory or better, a real blade. I kept a small surplus of food within my rooms in case I need to travel on a moment’s notice. Even packed clothes that were durable, which in the spring court was a feat within itself. 

These behaviors hadn’t started when we returned. The days we came back, we repaired the manor and slept besides each other exhausted but content to be near each other again. We didn’t sleep during the normal times, all staying up and keeping each other company. Waiting out the horrors of our minds until we could finally gain a few hours of peace. Daily, we would remind one another that we had survived. Tamlin thanked the Cauldron that Lucien and I and his people had overcome this. We were a team. 

Tamlin still was overly cautious with people approaching me. Despite my fae abilities, he ensured everyone meeting me would remain distant and polite. I trusted that this would disappear as time went on. If he could forgive me for barely wanting to speak to anyone but him and Lucien then I could wait for him on this. 

That was another remnant of Amarantha: I didn’t want to be seen by people. At least not in the beginning. I wasn’t ready for it. Not after the blood I had shed. It wasn’t right. I had barely spoken with Bronn and Hart when they guarded me. Lucien and Tamlin were the only who could get a decent conversation out of me. But then Hart had belched loudly during a ride and when I had laughed, he had told me that he missed me and my silence was broken. I had cried then about those fae and he had dared to place a firm hand on my shoulder to reassure me that Amarantha was the villain. Even if I had the blade, I would not have done so willingly. From then, he had reminded me almost daily. It helped a little.

Tamlin spent time with me and together, we would get through this. We would remember what life was like at peaceful times and move forward. I felt calm even though I knew it would take a lot more than pretty statements and a hug to return to normal. But something made me feel okay with not returning to normal. I wasn’t the same person I was when I entered the mountain. I was stronger. I needed Tamlin to see this side of me. Part of his behavior was from how helpless we were in Amarantha’s hall. He needed control and I could abide that. 

Then Tamlin had changed. It started when he announced we should prepare for more violence the manor was no longer a place for healing. I rarely shared Tamlin’s bed since he stayed up late planning and during the night, all my fears came to call on me. I was never invited to the meetings but I should have been since I stayed up that late anyway. Tamlin insisted I rest since my eyes looked redder and surrounded with even darker skin by each passing night. I didn’t tell him of my night terrors. He didn’t need to know of my nightly struggles. He was looking worse as well and I didn’t want to be a burden. 

So I stayed up most of the night with the candle burning besides me, flipping through books from the library. I couldn’t read but the pictures were what kept me awake anyway. Depictions of people I never met before and their great deeds. It was easy to borrow some of their bravery. Some I could place by what they were drawn with. An ancestor of Lucien’s I picked by the red hair and golden eyes, drawn on a background of warm colors. I learned more of the Day court from their bright blue skies and depictions of libraries far vaster than Tamlin’s. It was a soothing time for me. One picture I continuously returned to was the view of snow-capped mountains set against a midnight blue sky with stars dotting the sky. For once, the night wasn’t pictured as dreadful but peaceful and serene. I returned to this picture right before Tamlin’s meeting would conclude and I’d hear the tell tale footsteps in the hallway. This ritual, I pretended, would give me sweeter dreams. 

It never worked but it made the process a little smoother. 

When Tamlin was near for my nightmares, he would drape a lazy arm around me and breathe the scent of my hair. If he was awake, he’d pull my nightgown up around my waist and clear the thoughts from my mind with broad sweeps of his tongue. Those nights were preferred but I didn’t want to ask, especially since he got such little sleep as it stood. 

After sending Alis on her way, I stood in the vacant foyer without a thought in my mind. “Would you like to go on a ride?” Bron asked kindly. I knew he was doing me a favor because the sun was setting amongst the hills and if Tamlin was in residence, this never would have been allowed. 

So I smiled a sweet, meaningless smile at Bron and nodded my head. Hart then saddled my horse while I changed into my riding habit. We set off into the hills, watching the sun cast the grass in a beautiful, vibrant shade of green. It was a beautiful evening as most were in the Spring Court. The air smelled of lilac. I tried my hardest to be swept up in my surroundings. I knew how lovely everything around me was. I was fully aware that Bron and Hart were now a part of my personal support group, attempting to raise me from the dead. But I was difficult and the harder they tried, the worse I felt. 

_Why can’t you just be grateful?_ I asked, staring at my thumbs that twiddled the reins of my horse. _Why can’t you just move on? Amarantha is behind you and you act like you’re a corpse still. You are given an eternity and you’re spending it miserable._ I repeated the words that Tamlin, Lucien, Alis and Bron and Hart had fed to me and yet it never made me feel any better. If anything, I felt worse. 

At one point, Hart or Bron must have noticed that none of the scenery was not impressing me. And my eyes stung painfully at this revelation. They turned us back towards the manor and I made no more eye contact with them. Once we were in the stables, night had arrived in full. Bron came over and took me by the waist, planting me softly on the hay floor. He gave me a small smile. “You will survive, my lady Feyre,” he told me kindly. Hart took my horse and led her to the paddock. 

“Thank you Bron, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Bron’s brows drew close together. “My lady, you are no trouble. But if you’d like, I would listen to whatever troubles-” 

“Where were you?” I spun to face Tamlin whose face was tinted red, storming towards Bron and I. His tunic was still dirty from the road. _I expected you tomorrow,_ I thought to myself, _actually, I expected you hours ago_. 

Bron took a healthy step away from me, saluting Tamlin before standing at full attention. “My lord, I took the Lady Feyre for a ride in the countryside. If only to make her feel better about your absence.” 

I flinched. _That was not going to sit well._ “Are you accusing me of abandoning her?” Tamlin was breathing so harshly at this point his chest was visibly rising and falling. His nostrils flared wider. 

Bron must have realized his error as well, immediately backtracking, “No my lord, just that-” 

“That you and Hart made a reckless decision today with her life and could have gotten her killed from your lack of judgement,” Tamlin hissed, now standing toe to toe with Bron. Tamlin was a good few fingers above Bron in height. This gave Tamlin the distinct ability to reduce Bron to a stuttering mess. 

“Tamlin, it was my error. I pushed the issue,” I stepped forward, placing a hand on Tamlin’s rock solid bicep. Tamlin’s head whipped to face me, his eyes narrowed down to slits. Even his pupils were cast into complete blackness under the dim lighting. I shrunk from him, sucking in a breath. 

“And Bron and Hart are assigned to ensure your safety, regardless of how naive you can be, Feyre. If I can’t trust them to do their duty then I will find loyal members of my court who will.” 

And like that, Bron was glancing to his boots in shame. Hart, standing with my horse, was looking similarly scolded. “Leave my sight. I’ll be looking after Feyre tonight.” 

“Yes my lord.” Another salute and they were marching from the stables with heavy feet. 

“That wasn’t fair,” I muttered. 

“Neither is my court failing where they shouldn’t,” Tamlin hissed back. “You need to be protected. They should see to that,” he spun and placed a hand on my arm, leading me out of the stables towards the main house. “I’ll deal with their punishments later. We need to dress and wash. My full court will be attending us tonight at dinner.” 

Practically dragging me up the stairs, Tamlin slammed the door behind him. The bath had wisps of steam still rising from it. I began unlacing the cuffs on my dress’s sleeves when Tamlin approached me naked. Finding that I undressed too slowly, he put his deft fingers to the task. Tugging on the bodice of my gown, he pulled the strings roughly out of their lacings and then shrugged the gown down my frame. Despite our intimacy, I felt the need to cover my chest and shrink under his assessment. My muscles had decayed slightly in the time we had been home. I no longer filled out my dresses but instead was small and waif-like. 

Though I felt no desire, I let Tamlin kiss my neck. His hands traveled from my narrowed waist to my breasts and groped at them. I closed my eyes and felt his touch, wincing when he became too rough. I swallowed my thoughts and surrendered myself. Wasting no time, he quickly finished and rested in the bath afterwards. I began to crawl in after him when he raised a hand to stop me. “No, let me,” he said. I sat on the edge of the porcelain bath shivering as he drew a wash cloth across me. As he cleaned, I washed the small beads of water trail down my sallow skin. I hadn’t felt dirty but I longed to wash myself more _thoroughly_ so our guests wouldn’t smell him on me. 

Fae, much to a former human’s surprise, couldn’t smell every scent on the air. But they could deduce when a couple had been intimate recently. This had been discreetly passed onto me when I had returned from dinner and asked Alis why so many jests had been made. I had thought only I could smell these things from myself but unfortunately I was very wrong. Naturally, I wished to scrub my skin with soap so my intimate behavior would remain between Tamlin and I. Oddly enough, I could feel nothing on a daily basis but the sharp tang of embarrassment never failed me. 

After Tamlin had cleaned the soap from my skin, I went to slip myself in the bath. 

“No, don’t,” he said in a low, rough voice. “I want everyone to know you’re mine tonight.” I heard the unspoken meaning, _That I am his and his alone. Not a soul can touch or reach me._

“Tamlin, I’d rather our nightly activities remain private,” I said chidingly. His possessiveness made me smile sometimes. It usually went along with passionate kisses though, not my mortification. 

Tamlin had a towel draped around his waist. He stood at the door, not facing me. “Are you ashamed then?” he asked. 

“No, it’s just-” 

“Do you not wish to marry me?” 

“No. I mean yes it’s just-” 

“Just you are worried what people would think of you being with me.” 

“It’s not that. I just want to be more private-” 

“Tell me truly Feyre, are you ashamed of me?” 

“No.” I looked at his muscular back and how tense it seemed. “I won’t wash then. I’ll prove it to you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat at dinner in a dress made of the softest pink with flowers that seemingly floated on it’s waistline and from each flower, petals fell towards the bottom hem. I matched the small flowers embroidered on the shoulders of Tamlin’s green surcoat. I would have enjoyed it better had I not felt like everyone in the room knew every secret I ever held. Like a child would when they have to pee, I crossed my legs and hoped not everyone in the room had a nose. If Lord Melton’s face, who sat to my left, was any indication then I was failing at concealment.

Bron and Hart were not present so instead Lucien remained by my side. 

Dinner was passed with polite conversation. Lord Melton bestowed on me a very eloquent complement for my _“time spent under the mountain”_ before he turned back to the Lord on his left. I didn’t speak after that. 

Tamlin rose from his chair and we all rose with him. I sat at his left and Lucien at his right. Tamlin swallowed before announcing, “Adriata was attacked today. The city is in shambles. A fourth of it’s soldiers and three fourths of its citizens were murdered today in a most gruesome manner.” At once, the entire table was devoured in shouts and gasps of horror. Tamlin continued, “Currently, the entire summer court is evacuating into our northern territory and those near the autumn and winter court will land there as well, once High Lord Beron and High Lord Kallias send response. Our court will not ignore the Summer court. We will aid their refugees. We will arm our soldiers and we will take revenge...against Hybern and his forces.” 

A unified gasp echoed over the room. I reeled at the mention of Hybern.

“Hybern is attacking and we must defeat him. I ask you all to once again face a formidable foe. We will prevail against them.” 

In response, every guest raised their glass towards Tamlin and one-by-one they affirmed they would fight for their High Lord, for Tamlin, and for the Spring Court. After, we all took our seats as Tamlin fed details about the attack. His Lords then took their turns declaring what course of action they wanted to take. 

As the night dragged into early morning, I placed a hand over Tamlin’s. He looked away from Lucien and waited for me to speak. “I will fight for you,” I smiled. 

Tamlin’s face formed something unreadable. His lips thinned and he lost the color in his tan skin. Lord Melton, frowned and turned away as if he had not heard correctly. Lucien remained frozen in his seat, furtively glancing between Tamlin and I. Tamlin removed his hand from under mine and returned to his conversation with Lucien. He barely acknowledged me for the rest of the evening and neither did the esteemed Lord Melton so I sat in silence at the dinner table until I was excused.


	3. Detach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: There are topics in this chapter that might be disturbing to some readers including depression and spousal abuse. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

In the end, it was Lucien that asked if I was tired. I was tired. Everyday I was exhausted. For some reason I wanted to scream this fact at the court. Though I knew what was expected of me and dipped my head, excusing myself and retreating to Tamlin and I’s room. I felt nothing when the door of our bedroom closed behind me except relief. I didn’t want to hide but I also had no desire to partake. 

So instead, I neglected the time of night and stayed in the bath for a long time. I studied the tattoo Rhysand had branded me with Under the Mountain. I knew Tamlin detested the sight of it which explained his sudden interest in procuring gloves for me. If I detached myself from the painful memories that surrounding the incident, I could admire the beauty in it. It had delicate whirls that no human could recreate so effortlessly. Even the eye on the center of my palm that should have been disturbing was comforting. It was the trance-like stare a statue gives that gives the solid marble it’s serenity, it’s grace. Though there were nights when I swore the eye blinked back and those nights I didn’t sleep at all.

Sitting in my lukewarm bath water, I wished Tamlin would return and we could speak. 

Tamlin didn’t come to talk. He also didn’t come to bed. I crawled into bed without him but I couldn’t decide if that made me more anxious or not. Both options were equally nerve-wracking.I didn’t want to think about what that meant. 

I sat up in bed, chewing my fingernails and flipping through another book that must have been a history of Pyrithian. Each picture was colored artfully. I traced the small strokes of the brush that I knew must have taken the artist an exceedingly long time. Though when I searched within myself I couldn’t find the desire to pick up a paintbrush. I goaded myself too.  _ You could do that.  _ And some voice at the center of my soul would laugh and say,  _ not today. _ Every so often I would glance to Tamlin’s side of the bed and another rush of nervous adrenaline would flood me. 

Dawn was closer than I thought and I was blearily studying the art. I fell asleep finally in the early hours, cuddling the book close to my heart. A servant’s knock roused me. Stepping cautiously into the room, Alis spotted me in a tangle of bedsheets. “High Lord Tamlin requests you to break your fast with him.” 

I snorted, yawning wide. “As long as I’m not seated next to Lord Melton, I’ll accept.” Alis’s eyes widened fractionally and she began to fuss with the curtains, patting them down though they were already open to the sun. And inanimate. 

“Lady Feyre, you will be dining alone with High Lord Tamlin.” 

I turned to her and all of the nervous energy I felt before flooded back into me. Numbly, I accepted Alis’s help in dressing me. She picked out a pale green gown that laced up from my lower spine to the nape of my neck. Alis then braided my hair into a coronet atop my head and laid out a blue pair of gloves with matching slippers. After that, I was alone. 

I was wrong. 

Bron and Hart were still to guard me. But they only dipped their head when I emerged and led me down the stairs to a sunroom. So I guess I was still a little right: I was mentally alone. Bron and Hart took either side of the doubledoors and opened them for me to enter. The greenhouse was covered in plants, mostly beautiful roses but they all were some shade of red. Standing on the precipice, I froze, eyeing the flowers. Tamlin’s figure at the table was peripheral to the sight of those flowers that began to resemble drops of blood with every passing moment. 

“Feyre?” Tamlin called, shaking me from my mind. I made a hasty entrance, quickly seating myself at the table. I avoided looking at the flowers and therefore studied my hands in my lap, spinning the engagement ring on my gloved finger. The doors closed with an echo. Tamlin and I sat in silence until he cleared his throat. “I did not want to wait so long to talk with you in private. This coming...war detained me.” Tamlin reached for the plates of eggs, cooked sausage, brown bread and bowl of perfectly diced fruit. He began to serve himself a heaping portion as he spoke. “I’ll come out and say it. It’s going to get a lot harder. We are going to be separated for longer periods of time. High Lord Tarquin and I have agreed that any refugees near the Spring Court should come and bring whatever supplies they can offer. They’ll need them in the coming days. My armies and generals will need me.” I waited patiently for him to arrive at his point. “I need to know you’ll stay here. And be safe. I can’t go to war and know you’ll be in danger.” 

“Then how do I know you’ll be safe?” I whispered, still making no eye contact. 

“I’ve been trained over several centuries. I can take care of-” 

“It didn’t seem that way Under the Mountain,” I mumbled. Some words that slip are like run away pets that sometimes work out in the end. And sometimes, those words are criminals that go and wreak havoc. 

Daring a glance at Tamlin, I saw the thin line of his lips right before I was thrown back. Glass shattered around me. Tossed out of my chair, I skidded on the slate floor until I hit the back wall of the greenhouse. Thorns of the rose bushes prickled my back. The floor was covered in a layer of glass, thorns and roses. Except for a semicircle around me where a shimmering barrier had protected me. Once my eyes had discerned it the barrier collapsed leaving me to wonder if I had imagined it. 

In the next moment chaos had erupted with Lucien throwing the doors back to glance between Tamlin and I. Bron and Hart entered shortly after. Tamlin sat in his chair, breathing heavily but staring at me wide eyed like a frightened animal. “What have you done,” Lucien shouted, running to me. He knelt in front of me, not seeming to grasp the glass hadn’t sliced me to pieces. “Feyre are you alright?” 

My eyes were trained on the wet drops on the floor. I touched a finger to the back of my head and came away with the deep color of blood. A ringing noise was all I could hear after that. My eyes wouldn’t leave the sight of the blood. Instantly I was back before the fae, holding a knife while Amarantha demanded I slaughter them. Kill them like I would a deer in the forest. Without mercy or hesitation I had raised that blade knowing that I needed to do this like I had needed to kill that deer to feed my family. 

Lucien had picked my trembling form up, cradling me in his arms. Tamlin was speaking or pleading, standing at the table. I didn’t catch the words between them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucien took me to my bedroom and left me under Alis’s care in the bathtub. She quickly wiped away any traces of blood and poured colored oils into the water to tint it a light blue. She spread purple flowers in the water. I knew she was murmuring to me but I could not hear her either. I felt a distant banging inside my head. As if a guest was at the door of my mind and demanding entrance. So I asked for some sleeproot tea and I slept the day away. 

When I woke in the night, Tamlin and most of his Lords had left the manor and were making their way to the war front. He left me a note apologizing, promising he will see me soon and that we would someday be together. In his stead, he left Lucien. So I asked for more sleeproot tea.


	4. Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

I was grappling with my own control in the morning. Thinking I had stolen a moment of peace to watch the sun over the northern mountains, I was quickly shaken from that. 

My knuckles were white on the stone railing. Terror flooded me and made my knees weak. It worked like ice running down my spine. All my nerves rattled and shook. I lost control and my hand flailed out, sending my morning tea to fall down the mountain’s side. I tightened the ropes I had on my magic. A layer of sweat formed on my brow. I was gritting my teeth from the pressure building on my shoulders. 

Closing my eyes, I forced the air from my lungs and clung onto that bond between her and I. I didn’t need to focus or search or grope in the dark to feel it. The bond between Feyre and I was like the sun and moon. There was no question about its existence and it’s light was like a beacon in the sky. Even as I reached for it, the pain inside was slowly lightening. I followed that connection to it’s source and found myself blocked. I threw my power into breaking down the barrier but I couldn’t penetrate. I was rebuffed. Panic tore at me and I dared shouting, announcing myself to her. There was no returning now. She would know that the bargain went further than skin deep. 

But to my relief and infinite panic, there was no response. 

Instead, that wall turned into a murky swamp that I couldn’t traverse. One step in and I was drowning in a sea of numbness. 

Reeling in my body, I turned from the balcony and went in search of Azriel. I found him training with Cassian in the bottom floor of the House of Wind. Trading jabs and insults like true bastards, they circled one another in nothing but their cotton pants. 

“So you finally tore yourself away from brooding, huh?” Cassian laughed, flicking a glance towards me and then another when I didn’t so much as smirk. He rose from his crouch, dropping his wrapped fists, “What happened?” His smile was gone and in its place was dread. 

“I’m not sure. Azriel, you need to return to surveillance.” 

“Surveillance of who? Hybern works quick but he can’t mobilize an army for another attack in only a night. We should wait until we can speak with High-”

“I’m not talking about that tyrant,” I snapped. Cassian raised his eyebrows. I softened, flexing my hands to relieve the tension that was slowly crushing me from the inside out. I looked instead to Azriel, searching out his eyes. “Azriel...it’s Feyre.” 

Azriel nodded. “I’ll go, Rhys.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. 

“Feyre? The human woman from Under the Mountain?” Cassian questioned, brows drawing close. 

“Something happened. I can’t get to her. Access her thoughts. There’s some...obstacle preventing me,” I supplied Azriel. He watched me closely, hanging on to every word and pause. My entire body was screaming. Every muscle strained. My gut was clenching painfully. I didn’t want to send Azriel. I wanted to winnow into that court, find her and mist the person who scared her until they were eradicated into oblivion. Each thought grew and demanded more. I shouldn’t be staying here. I need to move. Her mind’s blocking me was not an issue. As a High Lord, I carried so much power that I could level armies and even reshape maps if I so much as cared to. Yet all of that meant nothing now when I was helpless to go to her. So all I could say to my brothers was “I don’t know what happened to her.”

And Azriel was gone. His shadows taking him to her leaving Cassian and I a few paces apart. “Who is she, Rhys?” 

“I told you, she defeated Amarantha.” I replied weakly. 

** Cassian shook his head. “You’re here, Rhys. You’re not Under the Mountain. Amarantha is gone. You’re surrounded by your  _ family _ and you’re still guarding yourself.” He walked towards me, stopping at my side. “One day, you’re going to have to let us back in.”  **


	5. Partake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I woke groggy with a dry mouth in the morning. It was almost dawn by the look of the light blue sky. I had sweated through my nightgown and into the bedsheets. I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher on my personal cabinet and chugged two full glasses. Sleeproot tea didn’t prevent nightmares but it removed the nervous anticipation of falling asleep which was enough for me.

My head throbbed. I didn’t examine those thoughts from yesterday too closely. Tamlin lost his temper but I had spoken something terrible to him. I had revealed my own black heart like the adder I am. In a single sentence I had reminded him of how helpless he was and the consequences that had. Touching my neck tenderly, I felt the bones where my head met my spine. Probing gently I believed I could identify where the break had happened and a rough spur had formed. 

I crawled back into bed, reaching for another book from my nightstand and flipping it open. As I looked over the art I had already poured over many nights in a row, I found my hand going back to my neck.

An hour later and Alis knocked on my door. “How are you feeling?” she asked, standing at the door. She was repeatedly smoothing her apron. I glanced at her but didn’t say anything. “Would you like to bathe or shall we get dressed?” 

Sighing, I closed my book. “What shall I be getting ready for?” 

Alis pursed her lips, eyeing me. “Lady Feyre-” 

“Feyre,” I said. “Everyone keeps calling me  _ Lady _ and I know I’ve no royal blood in me so this must be because I occasionally share a bed with Tamlin but that doesn’t make me a Lady. Far from that.” I was picking at my nail beds again. My eyes were once again drawn to the tattoo on my left hand. 

“ _ Lady  _ Feyre, we do not call you Lady because you may or may not be High Lord Tamlin’s engaged or even his bed partner,” Alis’s voice was low and severe. Her hands had become fisted in the skirt of her gown. “Maybe before we had given you the title out of respect for High Lord Tamlin but certainly, you have earned the right of ladyship.” I knew what she meant by  _ before.  _ It was before this fae world had thoroughly hollowed me into an empty shell. I stared back at her in silence, unsure of what I could say. “You might have reservations to what was done under duress but the people of this land are grateful. Now I will get you hot water for a bath and after a soak, I’ll pick out a dress for the day. We can decide from there,” Her voice was shaking by the end and a few hairs had fallen from her braid. She dipped into a curtsey that I had me raising my brows before darting out to get the hot water. When she returned, I sat wrapped in a robe by the bath. I eased myself in the hot water and she slowly added the same oils from yesterday with the calming scent of lavender. 

Leaving me to soak in the sunlit room, I sunk beneath the water. My eyes were closed tightly and all I could hear was the steady rhythm of my heart. I was alone and for some reason the dark of my mind didn’t bother me. 

Though she hadn’t meant to, I felt chided by Alis’s words. Like I had dismissed her and her respect for me. I didn’t feel like I deserved it though. I wanted that awe but how could I allow it to continue when I had committed atrocities to attain it? I was a poor excuse for the hero they so desperately wished to portray me as. Tamlin had needed me to break the curse and I wasn’t special for being lonely and finding love with him. 

But if the people determined me as deserving then I couldn’t grow angry at them. I’d have to prove that their favor wasn’t misplaced. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucien was waiting for me outside the manor along with a group of soldiers, including my own personal guard. Each man carried a longsword at their hip along and some carried a bow across their back with a quiver of arrows tied to the saddle. I felt no longing towards my old weapon of choice. 

One soldier carried a wooden chair on their horse which I raised an eyebrow at. Two horses had been hitched to an empty cart to be carried. Bron and Hart shifted uncomfortably when Lucien told them to help me onto my horse to accompany the group. “Where are we going?” I asked, feeling ignorant. A few of the others in the group glanced around as well. 

“Tamlin didn’t say?” Lucien asked. He looked unsurprised. I froze, unsure if I should say anything. I studied the riding habit Alis had picked out for me. Another dress of yellow with tan gloves, embroidered with forest creatures of the cute variety. 

“He wrote a letter. I hadn’t the chance to read it.” I lied. He wrote a letter and I had skimmed it, not wanting to recognize his disappointment in me. It would be a matter of time before he realized that I wasn’t right to wear the engagement ring. 

“The first refugees from the summer court have arrived. We need to organize them and collect their supplies,” Lucien sighed. He flicked the reins and we slowly rode down the grassy path, lined with flowers and into the woods north of the manor. I barely dared to breathe. If they knew who was among them would they send me back to the manor? Any second and Lucien would bid me farewell and I’d continue on a casual ride with Bron and Hart. Just another morning distraction for the Lady of the Spring Court. But as we continued into the woods, no one dismissed me. 

Did Tamlin know I was leaving the supposed safety of it’s walls? Judging by Bron and Hart’s furtive glances left and right, he did not. When they didn’t say anything, I decided it was safe to announce my presence with another question. “How did they get here so quickly?” 

“These refugees are coming from the summer court across the border. They are evacuating before any attack. Those from Adriata are far more west of here. I suppose a few could have made it here by now if they could winnow but that’d be a lot for the lower fae,” he shrugged, eyes far off. 

“Winnow?” 

“Tamlin didn’t-” he cut himself off before shaking his head. “It’s a type of transport. Fae magic allows us to jump from one location to the next. Higher fae usually have more magic and can winnow even longer distances. Most refugees might be able to jump a couple of paces but as exhausted as they are, I doubt they could.” 

“Is the entire summer court evacuating?” 

“More like fleeing,” he said. “Hybern has sailed his ships up the Andros river and has determined that the summer court is best used as kindling,” Lucien sneered at the end, his lips curling in disgust. “Tamlin is now meeting with the other High Lords to determine the best action. How to fight. Where the fighting should occur. This is all coming so soon.” 

“What are we going to do?” I asked. 

“We’re going to fight.” I gave Lucien a flat look that bordered on anger. He laughed, “I thought you meant...nevermind. We are going to meet the refugees, make room for them and then add their offerings to our supplies for the coming war.” 

_ War _ . I shuddered. I have never seen a battle. The closest I came was when Tamlin tore Amarantha limb from limb but technically I wasn’t alive for that. I had been an observer through Rhysand’s eyes. All the images I thought of were from the books I flipped through. Two sides meeting on a grassy moor and then hacking at each other until at least one person remained. 

The mist that blanketed the woods disappeared as the sun rose. My back was slightly wet with sweat. The soldiers mostly kept quiet and if they spoke, then they did so in hushed whispers so as not to disturb Lucien and I at the front of the party. I could only catch snippets of their conversation but it consisted of jests at each other, over their conquests and fighting abilities. The occasional bets were made. I yearned to join them. Almost begging to speak to anyone who ignored my title and joked at my expense and made me feel normal. Alive. 

Though I knew what they whispered when I walked by,  _ curse-breaker.  _

We traveled for half of the morning. The forest opened up to a field with a stream and for every flower was a refugee. Mostly older men and women and the youngest of the children and yet there was a field of displaced people. Each carried something on their back, around their necks, and in their hands. They all had walked leagues and here they were, standing in a clearing and waiting for help. I looked for any signs or Spring Court soldiers but came up empty, “How’d they know to stop here?” 

Lucien gave me another quizzical look. “We are standing besides the Spring and Summer court border, they are waiting to enter.” 

“I thought we went west to where the battles are.” 

“If you go a little further northwest, you will find the battles. Hybern has wasted no time,” Lucien grumbled. “I told you. They are running.” 

We were launched into motion. At least, the soldiers and Lucien were. Bron and Hart stood by me and I watched, not knowing what to do. The soldiers ushered the refugees into a single line and then Lucien, much to my dismay, had me sit at the front of the line in the wooden chair I had seen earlier. 

An old fae male approached first, holding the hand of a little girl. Across his neck was a long shoot of wood that had several sacks slung over the rod to hang. He had deep lines in his forehead and smears of dirt on his dark brown skin. His long tunic was torn where it hit his knees. The little girl was wearing a red tunic fit for a man that had been tied under the arms and around the waist to make it more manageable. She had tightly coiled hair that was tamed by a single blue tie and remnants of flowers she had stuck there.

“You stand before Lady Feyre Cursebreaker, betrothed to High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court, state your names,” Lucien announced. 

Sucking in his chest and rising to his full height, “I am Pora Ralasi, this is my great granddaughter, Shea Ralasi. It is a great honor to meet the one who freed us from Amarantha’s reign,” His voice was gravely and low, held down by sorrow but still proud. Bowing as low as he could manage while carrying the weight about his neck, I bowed my head to him in awe. 

Once he spoke, I comprehended the gravity of the situation Lucien had planted me in. He had done me no favors, sitting me at the head of these refugees. I had no place welcoming these people who were so thoroughly worn I could feel their exhaustion. I could only sit frozen, staring down the long line and feeling terrible. How pristine my gloves looked compared to them. My engagement ring caught the light of the sun and was probably worth more than what all these people had carried. 

Lucien held a wooden board with many sheets of paper, writing down the names. Glancing at me and then the refugees Lucien finally asked, “Where do you come from? Your ages?” Shea hid behind her great grandfather’s robes, tucking her own little pack behind her. 

“The Delta Forsa. I am entering my nine hundredth century and Shea is just past her eighth birthday,” Pora said proudly, squeezing Shea’s shoulder fondly. The little girl peered up at me and I smiled as best I could. 

“And what offerings do you bring?” Lucien asked. 

“We were only farmers of lentils and barley, my Lord,” he supplied. Grunting from the effort, he lowered the sacks of grain to the ground. His knees popped. “This is all we could carry.” Shea shot him a look and brought around a smaller sack and placed it neatly with the others. 

“You did so well,” I spoke quietly, stunned. Pora smiled kindly but Shea lifted her chin, accepting my praise with a nod. That made me smile genuinely. 

“The Spring Court accepts your offering,” Lucien added. He wrote down the offerings and then waved a hand. The soldiers we had traveled with stepped forward and took just over half of the grains, walking with it towards the cart. My eyes widened. “If you walk four leagues south, you’ll find some corn farms. I’m sure you can find a place among them,” Lucien pointed into the woods. 

“Thank you, my Lady,” Pora bent low to collect the remaining food and then lead Shea in the direction Lucien had pointed. 

“Surely the Spring court can survive on less,” I whispered to Lucien. My eyes caught a shadow some paces behind him but I couldn’t identify it further. When I looked back to Lucien, his eyes widened and he raised a hand to prevent the next refugees from coming close. 

“This is by Tamlin’s decree and we need to supply an army Feyre. If the armies fail, these people won’t need to worry about starvation,” he argued. “Tamlin has looked into the food necessary to supply months of war and we need this. Now, if you have to challenge this we can do so in private. But right now, the people need you to smile and welcome them,” he scolded me like a child and the worst part was that I felt like I deserved it. I knew our armies would need the food but I could hardly stomach the sight of these people, so starved and deprived. And we were further depriving them for the offer of safety inside our borders. 

Finding my voice, I nodded for the next refugee to approach. “I know I cannot argue the importance of feeding the army but do not mistake me. I am no stranger to hunger and I will not become it’s ally,” my voice had risen and venom had seeped into it. 

Lucien’s face was grave. Losing some tension, “I know Feyre, I know.” 


	6. Declare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter contains descriptions of gruesome content. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

I was about to walk into the meeting of the High Lords. Anticipation licked my heels as I strolled towards the meeting place. An hour before, a messenger had winnowed to the Night Court and revealed the location to which we had to travel to. We could winnow fifty paces from the location and the rest, we had to walk unless we wished to prevent the meeting from occurring. 

The last time every High Lord had been in the same room, Amarantha had enslaved us for fifty years. We would now meet to prevent Hybern from doing the exact same thing except there would be no hope bestowed on a human woman. 

_Feyre._ I whispered along the bond. She had woken up and I joined her, barely tapping into her mind. Her movements were ghosts that barely touched my senses. The important thing was that she was safe and alive. Despite my willingness to do so the day before, I kept to the outskirts of her thoughts where I could keep watch. 

A new presence distracted me and I glanced to see Azriel’s shadows beckoning me from the path I took to the meeting. Winnowing away, I found Azriel crouched by a small stream in the summer court. “I did not think you wanted me to wait to report until you were back home,” he explained, washing his face with water. Though I could feel Feyre in my mind, his sudden arrival had me rechecking her to find her still safe. 

“You were correct,” I sighed, leaning on a tree. Feigning casualness. I waited only a moment before I asked, “How is she?” 

“If she was ever distressed, I would not have ever known. She left the manor today but her flock of guards was even larger today. Tamlin wants to keep her carefully guarded. She has two personal soldiers, Bron and Hart. There were fourteen other soldiers except for Lucien Vanserra,” Azriel recounted. “An entire town of Summer Court refugees were on the border waiting to be welcomed in. Feyre was welcoming them and Lucien was tracking their origins and what they brought to offer.” 

“Tamlin should know better than to rely on the citizens to supply his army,” I snorted. Armies were fragile. The stress of war and brutality of training already pushed the limits of a soldier’s mind. Food and supplies needed to be the last concern. Keeping separate fields with employed land owners guaranteed a separate food supply that would stock an army for a year. If pestilence graced the fields of the Spring Court, Tamlin would find himself the subject of a civil war. 

“He should also know how to keep his power in check.”

My head swung back to Azriel. “What do you mean, Az?” I had gone still all over. 

“Every window in a greenhouse in the Spring Manor was shattered. A gardener had postulated a small storm had caused the damage. Whatever _storm_ had hit, it neglected the rest of the manor. And land for that matter.” He painted a clear image for me. Tamlin’s magic had manifested quickly and caused a small magic wave. Any fae that could call magic can create a small shockwave of sorts if they summon their magic fast enough. It usually is dismissed as a breeze or wind but usually fae know it’s a magic wave. Powerful fae can even use it as a weapon like a whip or as Tamlin had, a wave of magic with the force of a punch. 

A momentary wave of darkness enveloped Azriel and I before I sucked it back in. “How badly was she injured?” I thought of Feyre Under the Mountain. How she hissed at me even as infection gnawed at her. Her spitting at Amarantha. Throwing the bone and splattering Amarantha’s pristine dress. And I wondered how much torment could she take until she began to crumble? 

And then I had my answer _, no more._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Those bastards are sailing up the Andros river and setting fire to our fields at best. At worst, they dock our harbors and release those Cauldron-damned creatures on my citizens,” Tarquin was shouting, slamming his hand on the map of Pyrithian. His voice was heavy with emotion and sweat beaded on his chest from the effort. His crown of seashells and coral was sitting tilted on his head. Not a single person in the world would ever say Tarquin did not care for his people after seeing him so. “But that isn’t the worst of it. I’ve seen my people, hanging in the doorway of their homes alongside their own organs. Some have been eaten with pieces scattered on the ground. Others are used as prey or practice for the soldiers to hunt. Struck by arrows. Cut in half with longswords. They capture the _lucky_ fae male or female and bring them to camp for entertainment. Nightly fighting rings. Brothels made of prisoners. Servants they can whip without mercy.” 

“When does this end?” High Lord Kallias asked. We were all seated around a table with some having brought their generals and commanders. Mor, who stood behind me, had looked for Viviane, Kallias’s newly mated wife. Kallias had not wanted to leave the Winter Court without a leader and preparations were in order if they expected to march their armies south. I couldn’t say I blamed her for getting excited. Despite having heard that Feyre was due south of my location from Azriel, I still discretely looked to see if she was present. Though I doubt this would have been the tearful reunion I envisioned.

The war tent remained silent with stoic faces. 

“With all of them dead,” High Lord Beron spat, reaching for his own personal pitcher of wine. “Amarantha was Hybern’s prized general. Is it a surprise where she learned her methods?” Eris stood dutifully behind his father though he winced when Beron became excessive. If Mor had noticed Eris’s existence, it would have been the first I had heard of it from how she excluded his side of the table.

“Their methods are destroying my people,” Tarquin enunciated each word. “If we do not ban together then your courts will fall as well and we all might take turns chopping each other’s heads off. It would be a kinder fate than what Hybern has planned, I guarantee.” 

“He has the Cauldron, Tarquin. We are woefully unprepared and he has a weapon made by the Old Gods,” Helion didn’t speak to chide Tarquin’s rashness. He said it from a place of solemn respect for the lives we would have to sacrifice to win this. Though as he said it, he picked off a piece of lint from his white toga.

“Amarantha enslaved us through tricks and by surprise, no less. Hybern is challenging us head on and for good reason. He knows he has the advantage as long as he possesses the Cauldron,” Thesan added thoughtfully, hand resting on his chin. “Helion, we will need those libraries if we are to find a weakness.” 

Helion and his thousands of libraries wouldn’t be able to help. I knew for fact that Amarantha had raided the shelves and burned most books surrounding the War. Especially those that mentioned her or her sister, Clythia. “I already have scoured it. If there is something on the Cauldron, it is currently being examined by over a hundred eyes,” he said confidently, nodding his head. 

“Make it a thousand,” Beron added. Eris finally agreed to something his father had said. 

“We do not need a mountain of books, Helion. No offense,” I spoke finally. He dipped his head. “We only need one.” 

“What are you rambling on about, Rhysand?” Tamlin, who had up until then been purposefully ignoring my presence, hissed from his position across the table. His muscles flexed from underneath the green tunic. I held back a snort. 

“Tamlin I know you’re not one for thinking but do try for our sakes. There is only one book we need. The Book of Breathings,” I said. Tamlin’s nostrils flared. He sat up straight, glaring. _Good. I didn’t come here to play._ I looked to Tarquin, trying to goad him into admitting his possession of the book. 

“Myth,” Beron replied. “It vanished after the War.” 

“That is not exactly true, Beron,” Tarquin finally spoke up. If I was inclined, I would have sighed in relief. “My court possesses half of the book.” 

“The mortal queens possess the other half, I remember the histories,” Thesian nodded. “How would we acquire their half of the book? They won’t meet with us. Not if they remember why the War even happened.”

“Not if their smart,” Beron spat. “No human would come within a hundred paces of the damn Wall if they had half a brain.” 

“I seem to recall a certain human crossing the Wall a handful of times. And if memory serves she also freed us from Amarantha, Beron. Your pessimism has a place and it certainly is not at this table,” I bit out. Tamlin’s eyes cut across to me. 

“We’d need to get both halves of the book,” Tarquin admitted, almost looking sheepish. 

“What happened to your half?” Kallias straightened in his seat, adjusting his white fur cloak. 

“It was locked in a vault secured by my power and that vault is now occupied by Hyberian forces.” 

Kallias’s eyes widened. “That was why he invaded your land. Ever since, I had been wondering why he hadn’t come for us. Or the Spring Court. Or even the Day or Dawn Courts. He sailed to your court because he knew he could invade and gain the only tool we could use to stop him,” Kallias leaned back in his chair. 

“He can’t get to it. Only the High Lord of Summer can access the book. I also doubt he could find it.”

Helion began shaking his head, his crown of golden sun rays catching the light. “The Cauldron would want to find the book. He will find it but if what you say is true, he could never possess it. Which gives us hope. We will need to reclaim it. The final battle will be in Adriata where we should use both halves of the book to destroy that Cauldron for once and for all.” 

“Great, I shall expect to be High Lord of the Rubble by the end of this,” Tarquin shook his head but we all could hear the mirth in his voice. If it meant freeing his people, saving them then he would set fire to his own throne. “Then we need to begin battling Hybern back down the Andros. The Summer Court navy was set ablaze. It’s army is in tatters and we need to assemble before attempting to strike back. Who can mobilize the fastest?” 

“You will have the Illyrian and Darkbringer Legions. Me and my court will fight for you.” I vowed. Tarquin met my eyes, gauging me for my worth. 

He seemed to find what he had been searching me for and agreed. “We will need them.”

“You’ll have the Spring Court armies, we have begun to march,” Tamlin met my eyes from across the table. He inclined his head to me, daring me to act. I didn’t dare reach for Feyre through the mating bond. He would meet with justice and I would ensure he learned his lesson. The remaining high lords vowed their legions but Tamlin and I were the only who could mobilize so quickly. From across the table, he stared me down. His fingers had grown claws and scratched the surface of the table. 

“And will our hero be joining us, Tamlin? How about my pathetic son?” Beron quipped, sensing tension. The High Lords had all looked uniquely bored up until Beron spoke. Feyre had managed to fall into anonymity until Beron dragged her into the forefront of their minds. My fingers twitched to tear out his tongue. “I’d be interested to see how our savior fares. The first fae to be made instead of born. Must come with _some_ perks besides for perky breasts,” he licked his lips. 

“That is my betrothed you speak of, you vile cretin,” Tamlin snapped. I even caught Thesian in a rare lapse of serenity, shake his head. Which, coming from Thesian, was the equivalent of a curse. 

“And we all saw you _betrothed_ in all her glory Under the Mountain. At least, Rhysand made sure we did.” If Mor was shocked, she didn’t show it. 

“Father,” Eris hissed. 

“Jurian’s finger and eye were never recovered from Amarantha’s corpse. Maybe we should ask Rhysand why he took the jewelry of his dead lover and then vowed to fight against her King.” Beron was picking at his nails in feigned indifference. 

“We all know where I stood when Amarantha was torn to shreds. I need not explain myself to you,” if Beron could play at nonchalance than I could too. I had done over five hundred years of acting and playing the role laid out for me. Beron in all his glorious incompetence wouldn’t be the one to wrest my control out from under me. 

“I believe Rhysand. He protected my court from Amarantha when he could have doomed us all. I won’t hear your accusations Beron,” Tarquin rose from his chair and we all stood with him. 

“And for every good deed there is a list of terrible ones to match. I shall not tell you how to keep your council, Tarquin, but you should learn to spot a wolf in sheep's clothing before your neck is forcibly removed,” Tamlin said before winnowing from the meeting room.

“Funny. I thought that was Tamlin’s preferred killing blow,” Helion raised a brow before winking at Mor and I. “Should you ever need more than a solider, you know where to find me.”


	7. Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter does contain erotic content and topics of depression that can be disturbing, please read with caution. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:  
**

The moon was up and full dark had descended on us when we returned to the manor. I thought I wanted to be away from home but after the day, I wasn’t so sure. Lucien had reassured me multiple times we were helping the refugees by giving them a home and protection. Each time I wanted to argue but another would come before us and the conversation would pause. Somehow, the next always looked worse than the previous. Sitting in the regalia of the Spring Manor in a carved wooden chair before these people left my throat thick and stomach churning. 

I knew that what we were doing was wrong. 

I also knew that if we couldn’t sustain our soldiers without pilfering from our own people then we can't claim to be on the side of the righteous. But I felt wrong to argue. I could hardly claim that I was a token of morality, the blood of those fae I had killed ghosting my hands. 

Lucien had gotten tired of repeating the same words to me and so I didn’t blame him when he immediately asked Bron and Hart to take me to my rooms.

Alis was waiting for me at the top of the staircase and greeted me with a tray of tea and biscuits. “A bath?” she asked. It seemed like all I did was sleep, bathe and eat these days. A cycle was forming. I spent nights battling my inner demons and then the days pretending I was perfectly content. A tinge of guilt licked at me for complaining. 

But I still found myself nodding for a bath. Maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, all of the horrors I carried would wash away. At some point, if my body had moved on then maybe my mind could as well. Alis had anticipated this and opened the bathing room door to reveal water that was steaming. 

She set the tea tray down besides the porcelain bath with bronze legs. About to leave, I called, “Alis, do you...do-” I must have startled her because her back went straight and she spun to face me. 

“Yes, my Lady?” she asked.

“Do you know about the Summer Court refugees?” 

Her face stilled. Dipping her head in a nod, “I know what has happened in the Summer Court. My...I used to call the Summer Court home until I came to the Spring Court with my family,” she offered. “It is a terrible thing.” 

“I’m sorry, I did not know,” I bowed my head, staring at my naked body in the murky water. 

“However could you?” she smiled kindly. “Was that all, my lady?” 

I blurted, “Did you know anyone?” 

She must have taken my meaning because she shook her head. “No. The only family I have lives with me here in the Spring Court. My two nephews.” She then looked away towards the window facing north. “But I suppose the friends I had are gone now.” 

“They might have made it to safety,” I offered hollow comforts. Without anything definite, I might as well have said the moon descended and swept her friends into it’s loving skies. The only task I had succeeded in was reminding Alis of her losses. 

“I thank you, my lady, for being so kind but they lived in Adriata.” 

I stared into her watery eyes feeling my heart sink. I gulped. “I am sorry, Alis. I am sorry for everything you have lost.” She nodded quickly and swiped away at her eyes. Her demeanor changed and lost all pretense. She came forward to kneel by the tub, sniffling. “I wish I could have helped your friends.” I reached over the tub and grasped her hand tightly, bringing it to my lips for a brief kiss. “If you have anything you ever need, ask it of me.” Tears had escaped and marked trails down her brown cheeks. Her hands were crushing mine. She tried to keep her sobs quiet but soon her sniffles and chokes were echoing in the bathroom. I leaned over the tub rim and brought her against me. Her chin rested on my shoulder and she wrapped her arms around my body. 

I let her cry. Until the bathwater was ice and my skin had pruned. My eyes burned by the end with unshed tears. Having cried under her eyes were swollen and puffy, she sat back on her heels staring at our joined hands. “I am so-”

“Alis, please,” I whispered. “Let me help you here if I can’t anywhere else.” 

She studied me with heartbreak written across her face. Devastation written in her eyes. “You have helped me without question, my lady,” her whisper was so forceful, I nodded and didn’t reply for fear I’d cry as well. 

We didn’t get the chance to speak further as the bedroom door opened loudly before footsteps were heard, approaching the bathroom door. Alis barely had time to snatch her hand from mine before Tamlin was standing in the door. Not a single golden hair was ruffled but he appeared as if he had rushed, his breathing loud. Alis dipped into a curtsey with a brief murmur of departure. She seemed like a mouse compared to his tall, lumbering form when she squeezed by him through the doorway. 

Crossing to me, he lifted me out of the tub. Neither of us broke the silence. Instead, I watched with wide eyes as he closed the distance between us. Leaning down, he lifted me from the bath without any care for his wet sleeves. He laid me on our bed with a tenderness I had thought lost. His hands went to the ties of his doublet and unlaced them slowly. His eyes never left mine or my body. His hand reached forward to where my knees were bent and spread them apart, baring me to him in the moonlight. The chill the bathwater had left me with was replaced by a heat flushing my cheeks and the tightening of my abdominal muscles. 

Kneeling on the bed before me, he entered me swiftly and I was tilting my head back moaning with a few thrusts. His hands held my thighs close to him, squeezing them hard. His nose was buried in the apex of my neck and shoulder. Open mouthed kisses and light bites littered my chest. His green eyes flecked with gold were incandescent in the moonlight like the reflective eyes of a wolf. He watched me so intently and quietly, I felt much like the prey caught in the jaws of a much larger beast. 

Wordlessly, he left me and rolled me onto my stomach. His hands reached my hips, pulling them back and up so he could enter me harder. I panted softly but he wasn’t satisfied and met me harder until loud moans were torn from my throat. His arm snaked around my abdomen to pull me upright, grabbing my breasts. He held me tight until I was utterly powerless in his arms. When he came, he bit my shoulder and held me even closer. 

We laid down on the bed, slick with sweat and panting. “I thought about you all day,” he whispered in my ear. “I left the meeting and came straight back to you.” 

They confirmed he did not think of me as a burden or worthless. He spoke with sincerity, washing away all insecurities I had. These were words I had wanted to hear everyday since I had realized I loved Tamlin with my entire heart. Then why did I feel guilty? 

“How was the meeting?” I asked softly, changing the topic until I could tame my miserable heart. 

He frowned and shook his head. “As all war meetings are, this was no different. Except a few undesirable characters were present this time and I was not given the privilege of removing their head from their shoulders,” he smiled ferally, eyes wide. My stomach sank further. I forced back a shiver. “One day, we will be away from all this nonsense and I can spend as much time with my lady.” 

Again, my traitorous heart fluttered and I knew it wasn’t in anticipation. I was surprised I had not already broken into cold sweats, thinking of a life filled with endless routine. He rose from the bed and much to my panic, I felt relief. He picked up his old clothes, dressing with a carefree ease. “I am sorry I must go so soon. I need to speak with Lucien about preparations. I will see you before I leave, Feyre,” he kissed my forehead softly. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back at my frozen form and smiled. Light from the hallway seeped into our candle and moonlit bedroom. “Though I wish you wouldn’t, I suppose I will send your maid in for another bath?” I barely nodded before he was closing the door behind him. 

I laid prone on the bed, curled into a ball. My breath felt shallow. I stared at the flicker of candles on the dresser opposite. Only Alis’s knock forced me to sit straight and brush my hair back. “Come in,” I called though my voice wavered. 

Alis entered, bringing steaming water with her to the tub. If she noticed my inner turmoil, she didn’t mention it instead choosing to focus on preparing the bath. “The bath is ready my lady, would you need anything?” 

“No, Alis, that will be all,” I replied too quickly, staring at my feet hanging off the bed. I thought she would say something but instead she left. On shaky feet, I walked to the bath and tenderly eased myself into the scalding water. Though the water was already scented with lavender, I took a glass bottle and poured a healthy amount of soap in my hand. Taking a cloth, I scrubbed at my skin. I repeated this until I had rubbed my skin raw and red, tender to the touch. 

Looking at my arms, I could see the bruises Tamlin had left from our lovemaking. I wondered what my neck looked like. What Alis had seen and not commented on, choosing to read my quietness as embarrassment from an overzealous lover rather than the panic of someone who did not know where to go. Or what to do. 

My skin stung in the bathwater from my rough washing so I reached for a towel. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye. Suddenly, all I could do was watch in abject horror as each twist and turn of my body revealed new bruises and bones. I was a husk. Where I had muscle in my thighs, there was now none. My skin was purpled around my eyes which matched the spots along my body. The soft pouch of my stomach had been sucked away to reveal ribs I was not familiar with. And I hated myself. 

I was subject to my worst thoughts.  _ I do not belong. I am not wanted. I am not worth my life.  _

So much so, I wanted nothing more than to escape. I wanted a place where there were no mirrors. A place that did not show me my own weakness and how broken I was. Tears spilled from my eyes and I clenched them tightly, refusing to see. I bit back sobs that I knew would echo in this home. And then I hated myself for knowing that my pain was my own here, that I was alone with myself. 

When I opened them again, prepared for another forced moment of suffering, I saw nothing but darkness. The entire room was cast in midnight black. Though I knew the bathtub was at my feet, I couldn’t see it or my hands that I waved before my face. I pinched my skin to remind myself I was still breathing. When that didn’t work, I closed my eyes and willed in the light. 

_ Please. No more darkness. _

When I opened, the room was still wrapped in a cloak of night but now little glimmering stars were suspended before me. The room was cast in a hazy light like a moonless sky, all grey. My breath was taken from me. Panic gave way to awe. I reached out to the closest star. Before I could grasp it, a rustling broke my concentration and candlelight bathed the bathroom once more. If not for how my eyes ached, I would have thought it all to be my imagination. Or a waking dream.

I wrapped myself in a cloth robe cautiously like the towel rack had caused the sudden change in scenery. Even when I left the bathroom, I glanced behind me expecting the room to shift before my eyes. 

“I wish you would have told me this would be a casual affair, I feel much too overdressed,” I spun to see a man silhouetted by the moon, oddly untouched by the candlelight The voice was recognizable but the day had made me tired and panic from my recent brush with darkness clouded my thoughts. I barely thought twice about lunging for the dinner knife on my nightstand. I brandished it without care, swinging for the man. 

His hand caught my wrist, suspended in a downswing. Finally drawn into the light, I came toe to toe with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. And his violet eyes were alight with glee, an untamed smile on his face. “Hello Feyre.” 


	8. Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I drew in a sharp breath. “You’re not real,” I whispered.

His eyes raised to where his hand caught my wrist, his thumb on my pulse. He smoothed his thumb over my skin and I jerked away, as if burned. “What are you doing here?” I hissed, though I kept my voice low. 

He straightened, eyes examining my neck with a hard edge. “I could ask you the same, Feyre.” He crossed to the window ledge and leaned on it. He bent forward as if about to share a secret, “You need not whisper, I’ve surrounded the room in a barrier. With how clueless those two outside your door are, you would think no one at this court cares for your safety.” He didn’t appear as ruffled as Tamlin had been. He wore a long black kurta that had been painstakingly embroidered with deep blue and purple threads that swirled to look like the night sky. As fine as he looked it seemed he had been on an evening stroll and stumbled across me in my bedroom. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I closed the gaping neck of my robe. “This is my home.” He assessed me, a single eyebrow raised. “I ask you again, what are you doing here?” 

His lips slipped into a feline grin, “My darling Feyre, are you not aware that I am at your every beck and call?” 

“If that’s so then my first command is that you leave.” I crossed my arms over my robe, trying to feign confidence I didn’t possess. He studied me for a moment which only made my facade seem that more transparent. I refused to speak before he did, glaring instead at his sleek form. 

He had not changed since Under the Mountain but I had forgotten how imposing he was. He stood just as tall as Tamlin and yet he was every bit more formidable. The way he tucked his hands away in his pocket and leaned on the window frame of his archenemy’s home like it was his and Tamlin, a mere rodent in residence. There was no discerning between the dark of my bedroom and his brown skin, only the light glow of his purple eyes. And those eyes were drinking in my presence like a man dying of thirst. 

“No, Feyre. Our bargain does not work like that. You can summon me but getting rid of me is a slight bit more challenging,” he shook his head,  _ tsking  _ me. 

“Our bargain? You are coming for the bargain  _ now _ ?” I hissed. He watched me with a lazy smile on his face like the mixture of anxiety, anger and annoyance I felt was amusing. “Do you realize you are months late and collecting now on it is incredibly inconvenient?” 

“I didn’t realize that convenience was a part of our bargain,” he replied easily. “But enough of that, we have places to be,” he swung from the window and stepped close to me. His nose was inches from my forehead, his eyes were staring deeply into mine. For a moment I thought we were going to stay like that. My breathing was shallow. The smell of ocean salt and citrus was heady, blurring my thoughts. “Hold onto me, Feyre,” he whispered, his hand on the small of my back to urge me forward. My hands tentatively grabbed onto his tunic. A voice in the back of my head warned me against being so close with the High Lord but it was silenced when he wrapped an arm around my waist, firmly pressing me into his side. 

A dull roar filled my ears and I turned my head to face his chest, trying to keep away from the torrential wind that whipped around us. I clenched my eyes shut to keep out the thundering void around us. 

The roar was replaced by the sound of my robe being whipped about in a humid wind. My skin that had been cool on the Spring night was now slightly wet and warm. I rushed to step away from Rhysand who remained silent. “What did you do?” I asked quietly, looking around us. I stood shin deep in a field of grass beneath the night sky. I could smell the ocean in the breeze but I didn’t know if that was from the time spent in his arms. Smoke was on the wind. 

“I winnowed us away.” 

“Well take me back,” I thought of Tamlin finding the room empty. Of his panic. Of his rage. 

“Do not fret,” he smiled, raising a hand to play with my bottom lip. I smacked away his hand, glaring. “They won’t check in on you.” I didn’t know if that was meant to be purposefully insulting so I continued to glare. Sighing, he picked his head up to gaze around us. “I brought you here so you could see for yourself what Tamlin has neglected to educate you on.” He turned towards the hill and began to climb, knowing that I’d begrudgingly follow. My bare feet trudged through the grass, kicking up clumps of mud and staining my white robe with blotches of brown mud. 

Over the other side was a city set on fire. Stuccoed houses set into a hillside that descended towards a white sand beach where waves lapped peacefully at the shore. Would have been breathtaking if not for the extensive damage. Glass was broken on the street. Each house had been torn from the inside out. Rooves threatened to collapse in on themselves. The white stucco walls were blackened from the ash of fires that were just now dying. For each fire was a cloud of smoke ascending into the sky. 

“Adriata,” I breathed out. 

“No, this is Pacifico, southern to Adriata,” Rhysand sighed. “Adriata is now rubble.” His jaw was tight and eyes cold as he surveyed the city before us. 

“We have to go help them,” I breathed, clutching my neck in panic. 

Before I took another step, Rhysand held my arm. “They had a warning. Adriata served as that. Any Summer Court citizen who is alive has already fled. All others are dead.” His voice was cold as well. Unforgiving and angry. When I paused to listen, all I could hear was the crackle of the fire and the occasional rumble from a home collapsing in on itself.

“Why would Hybern...attack an empty city?”

“Because he can. Because he wants to send a message. That he is going to break our world and reshape it as he pleases,” Rhysand tore his eyes off of the city to meet mine, wide in horror. The fire light was reflected in their violet depths. “This is what Tamlin has decided to summarize for you. Otherwise you would have known. You would not be shocked as you are now. Because Feyre, if this shocks you, I must regret to inform you that this is hardly the worst of it.” His eyes were downcast, a frown forming at his lips. 

“Hybern needs to die,” I breathed. Smoke was filling my lungs. 

“We are in agreement,” Rhysand turned back towards the field but I refused to take my eyes away from Pacifico and the flames that engulfed an empty city. He waited, speaking from someplace behind me. “But Hybern remains untouchable so long as the Cauldron is in his possession.” This made me whip to face Rhysand. Without any mirth in his smile, he laughed harshly. “And I see Tamlin has also neglected to share this information with his court. Hybern, indeed, has the mythical Cauldron that shaped all things both alive and dead. The infamous piece of pottery that gave us good and evil,” Rhysand shook his head, spitting each word out. I flinched. “It makes him unconquerable when he has the power to create thousands of soldiers overnight.” 

“Then we are all doomed,” I whispered, looking back to the city turning to ashes. I sank to my knees, thinking of the struggles I had overcome just to die now. 

_ I could have stayed dead.  _

“Don’t you dare think something like that,” Rhysand seethed, clenching and releasing his fists. At my shocked face, he provided, “Your thoughts sometimes are thrown at me through our bargain. Like your nightmares that keep me up at night.” 

“Stop listening to my thoughts,” I was mortified. The thoughts I had were private and he was privy to each one, the treacherous and terrible ones as well. 

“I cannot help what you shout in your mind.” Rhysand shrugged. “If you are so betrayed, then push me out. Close your mind off from me.” 

“I don’t know how,” I shook my head. I had thought my mind was safe within my skull and now I didn’t know what to think. Rhysand took steps forward until he could crouch before me in the grass. He brought my chin up to meet his eyes. Suddenly, a knocking echoed in my mind. I knew it was him instantly. Immediately I met it with resistance, pushing a piece of myself I didn’t know existed. For the moment, I was unseeing. I could only focus on the considerable force of him trying to push itself into my thoughts. With a gasp in relief from me, he retreated and nodded. 

“One day, you’ll be able to do that without my intrusion. Focus on building that wall and we will see what a fast learner you are.” He smiled, petting my cheek. “Come with me, my pet,” he extended his arm. I stood on wobbly knees and took his hand. Some part of me wanted to hiss and scratch at him but I found no fight left in me after seeing Pacifico. He pulled me close to his chest and the roaring was once again in my ears. This time, it lasted for a longer time and when I opened my eyes we were in another field. 

“Where now?” I asked, taking in the night and slight chill.

“The Dawn Court,” he said. “They have the most spectacular sunrises. Come, sit with me,” He sat down in the field and I too, straightening my robe. Stretching back into the grass, he seemed content to stay there forever gazing up at the night sky. I laid down beside him, looking at the stars above. 

“How then?” I asked. “How will we defeat Hybern?” 

A small smile formed at the corners of his lips and he studied my face for a moment. “There is a legendary book that supposedly contains the knowledge of how to stop or at least contain the Cauldron. The Book of Breathings. In the War, it was split between the Summer Court and the Five Human Queens.” 

“Rhysand,” I breathed. His eyes fluttered and met mine. “The Summer Court fell.” It wasn’t a question but a prayer.  _ Tell me I’m wrong.  _ He gave me the barest of smiles. 

“The piece in the Summer Court is safe for now. We will need to retrieve it but personally, I worry for how we will attain the piece the humans possess. This piece was not given to them so that they could relinquish it so easily. It was meant to keep our power in check. However, if we are going to defeat Hybern, we need to speak with them. To show them what we face and that we must unite.” 

“How will you get through to them?” I barely wanted to speak. At what moment would our problems crush us? When would my knees give out and my strength be sapped from the weight on my shoulders?

“No, Feyre. How will  _ you  _ get through to them?” he replied. Meeting my eyes with sincerity. His hands played with the grass. “You were human. You are now fae. You alone can speak to the cruelty and be believed. You are the one among us who can convince them.” 

I shook my head. “Then we are doomed,” I choked on a laugh. 

“No-” 

“I cannot speak about how we fight for what is right when I know we can be just as cruel.”  _ Murderer. Liar. Traitor.  _

Rhysand shook his head, obviously having heard my thoughts. “Would you try?” he asked. “Even if the odds are against you and failure is at your door?” 

Would I? Could I continue to stand at this moment even though every fibre of my being wanted to collapse? In spite of how broken and wretched I was? 

Swallowing, I had my answer. “Of course.” 

“Speak to Tamlin then. And this shall be our bargain. You will be my Ambassador to the Human Realms, the first of your kind. Once a month for a week, I will visit you and we shall somehow convince the Human Queens there is enough good in this world worth saving.” I wanted to voice my concern that Tamlin would never agree but not to him. I would have to be brave if I meant to fulfill this role. In the same breath, I didn’t want to chase away the warm feeling Rhysand’s words left in my gut. 

We remained that way in silence until the sun rose. Laying side by side in the grass, gazing up at the brightening sky. It was a beautiful soft yellow haze that made the air seem to glow gold. The trees in the wood surrounding us looked like torches under the light. The blue sky adorned by pink and orange clouds filled with a radiant sun. The air warmed in it’s radiance to smell like fig trees and lemongrass. If I closed my eyes, I could even smell the salt and citrus from Rhysand. Bathed in sunlight, I fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I only woke when Rhysand had just placed me under the bedsheets of Tamlin and I’s bed. Some inner thought voiced the insecurity that Rhysand must have realized why our bed was unmade. Another thought echoed that I shouldn’t care. Both were replaced when Rhysand turned with soft eyes to find me awake, staring at his retreating form. “I see you have the collection of books,” he nodded to my bedside table, stacked with them. “I’ve left one of my own in there.” I nodded dumbly, watching him straighten under my gaze. His eyes seemed unreadable compared to how open they appeared when I first awakened. “I’ll meet with you tonight, Feyre. Sleep well.” 

And with a small whispering noise, he vanished in the dawn. 


	9. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

Though the effort required to winnow onto the balcony of the House of Wind was small, I was breathless. My chest rose quickly and my head felt light. I leaned on the railing, allowing the moment to recenter myself. The entire time I spent with her had been a study in controlling each impulse I had. Exercising that level of control had left me exhausted emotionally and in cold sweats.

But I felt a warmth flooding me from within. I was exhilarated. Being in her presence was like standing before a great expanse of mountains with my wings fanning out, ready to take the plunge off a steep cliff. Any movement would send me hurtling through the air, soaring above the canyons. 

My thoughts darkened as I recalled our first words spoken to each other. Looking so unnerved and then launching into an attack, picking up a dinner knife like it was an Illyiran blade. The way she had clumsily went in to strike me. Allowing herself to be caught so easily would have sent Cassian into a full Commander Mode. Her meager fighting ability would keep her safe from a human or a very weak fae which left her vulnerable. Especially with the fae that already are taking an interest in her, Hybern included. Even Beron’s interest in her was concerning. 

Though I was not surprised, I had expected Tamlin not to be so completely pigheaded in refusing to train her. I had mistakenly believed Tamlin would show her the basics of self defense. If I was to get a decent night of sleep, I would need to know she could protect herself.  _ And that would require providing her with weapons far sharper than a butter knife _ , I shook my head. Already my mind was launching plans to get her trained as quickly as possible. Though oddly, I resisted imagining her in battle. I didn’t want to see her on a killing field, covered in blood and grime. Firmly I told myself that I would teach her anything she desired and if she found herself heading to battle, I would follow. 

But I could not do this alone. 

So I opened my mind to my inner circle, allowing my thoughts to speak with theirs. The slight echo I heard let me know that Cassian, Azriel, Amren and Mor were listening.  _ It has been long overdue that we sit down as a family for breakfast _ . 

Though for non-daemati, returning the conversation was more challenging. Any mind is a conglomerate of feelings and thoughts that change rapidly. A daemati could not only peer into the mind of another but organize it as well, creating an exchange of coherent thought. A skilled one could even peer into memories. But non-daemati struggled to organize specific thoughts that they wished to communicate. So when I spoke to them, their responses were formulated in swells of emotions between acceptance and indifference. 

Looking towards the rising sun in the east, I lazily thought maybe this announcement could have waited till a later time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I spent the next few hours reviewing the maps within my library. Refamilizaring myself with the geography of the seasonal courts. I poured over their foliage, animals and the indigenous peoples that inhabited their lands. Like the Illyrians that uniquely belonged to the Night court, each court had a separate species like the Dawn’s peregryns or the Spring’s water wraiths. Though these peoples tended to live by their own code and order, following the basic tenants of the Court loosely. This habit would undoubtedly damage the efforts to unite them against Hybern. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised it was Azriel that came first. With a penchant for timeliness stemming from impeccable manners, he always appeared right before he was needed. When I looked up from a book on Summer Court Urisks that I had been trying to use to distract my thoughts from Feyre, he was standing before me. Swathed in shadows he smiled wryly, “I’ve been told that if you did not procure baked delicacies from Ellowyn’s Bakery then Cassian refuses to attend. Mor might follow his lead if there are no fruit tarts of any origin.” 

“What pampered children I have,” I grinned, shaking my head. I wish I could have said Cassian and Mor were merely being comedically dramatic but I begrudgingly followed their requests anyway.  _ Pampered indeed _ . I mentally summoned Nuala and Cerridwen from the kitchen. The twins materialized from shadow, bowing their heads. “Is Ellowyn’s Bakery on the list of breakfast items?”

“I would not risk General Cassian’s wrath by excluding them,” Nuala’s toneless voice replied. 

I mentally cringed that I found myself looking after my cousin’s stomach like it was an important diplomat that necessitated good impressions. “And fruit tarts I suppose are somewhere on the list as well?” 

“Undoubtedly.” 

Before they had a chance to retreat into the kitchen, I added, “And lamb’s blood?” Nuala nodded with a knowing smile. When they had vanished into the shadows, I looked to Azriel in exasperation. 

“Appealing to Amren’s good side? How considerate of you,” he smiled. 

“Not at all, Azriel,” I said, patting him on the shoulder, careful of his wings. “I just simply wish to keep my head attached to my shoulders long enough to win this war.” He followed me out of the library with a healthy laugh that echoed in the marble hallways. 

The cherry oak doors to the dining hall swung open as we approached, revealing Cassian and Mor who chatted over coffee. The table could seat fortytwo, a moderately sized dining hall, and they took the seats at one end. The room was formed from marble with a swirling black and grey pattern. Large white columns extended towards the high-raised ceiling. The windows had been opened to let in the mountain breeze. Despite the House being carved into the red stone of the mountain, my ancestors had sought to bring in more stone to shape this dining room. 

“Aren’t you the bastard that woke me up at the crack of dawn like you were looking to fight me or something?” Cassian smiled at me, sipping his heavily sweetened coffee. 

“Do not look so scared, brother. If I had wanted to fight you would already be in the infirmary,” I quipped, rounding the table to sit across from the pair. Azriel sat at the head, to my left, and began to serve himself some coffee. Cassian’s smile fell flat and he blew out a breath. 

About to speak, he was interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding down the hall. No one spoke as Amren rounded the corner, entering the same way Azriel and I had. She stood with arms crossed in a loose fitting blouse and pants of slate grey. Cerridwen emerged from a shadow behind her, holding out a jar of lamb’s blood which Amren accepted without so much a look behind her. Her eyes trained on Cassian. She raised the lip to her mouth, took a long sip and smiled with her teeth glimmering red. “Much obliged, Cerridwen.” Cerridwen nodded her before she disappeared.

Amren took her half-full glass and sat besides Mor at the table, nursing her glass. 

“I don’t think I want food anymore,” Cassian shook his head. Mor seemed inclined to agree. 

“High Lord. You called us. We are here,” Amren stated flatly. She arched a solid black eyebrow at me. Nuala and Cerridwen reappeared, bearing breakfast to the table. Unsurprisingly, both Cassian and Mor dug into the feast without any of their previous disgust. 

“I recently realized I have misjudged you all.” Mor looked up in confusion. Cassian, in slight apprehension. “I have kept certain pieces of information secret from you all and I’ve seen that this may have helped me while Under the Mountain, but I am no longer there.” Mor sat back in her chair, smiling encouragingly at me. She barely touched her fruit tart as I spoke. “I wish to tell you about what happened.” I didn’t need to elaborate. They knew what I referred to.

“Some years ago, I began to have dreams that seemed more like memories. It was this that kept me sane while Under the Mountain. They were peaceful and no more than the day to day life of some person whose mind I was privy to. When I had them, I could find some semblance of happiness and they sustained me during the time between. Finally, I saw something familiar. Calanmai. And I was propelled to the Spring Court to meet the person whose eyes I saw through. I came across a human woman who had enough sense to hate me on sight,” I laughed. 

“So she was smart?” Cassian added. 

“Very much so. And I, wanting to protect this human, knew the only way she would be safe was if she was far away from Amarantha and even further from Tamlin. So I threatened Tamlin within an inch of his sanity until he came to the conclusion that the woman must leave the Spring Court. Before Tamlin’s eyes, I invaded the human’s mind and even with my talons so deeply embedded, she had the audacity to lie to me.” I shook my head, smiling to myself. My inner circle waited quietly. I had barely offered information about my time Under the Mountain. Equal parts of me wanted to scream out what terrible things I had done and what had been done unto me. The later half hoped I could bury these events for the rest of my time among the living.

“She lied to me about her name and with this information, Amarantha recaptured Tamlin. The woman was safe. That lovestruck idiot did the only smart thing in his life and made sure the woman he loved was safe in the human lands where Amarantha was unlikely to find her. But like Cassian when he finds a woman he wants to pursue, she came back. She was found by the Attor, trying to sneak into the mountain undetected, and dragged before each and every fae held captive. Including myself and Tamlin.” 

“How did she manage to get past all the courts?” Mor asked with wide eyes. 

“She walked,” I replied, gauging my court’s reaction. “And when Amarantha questioned her, she declared her love for Tamlin and that she came to earn his freedom. Like a fool, she made a deal with Amarantha that she would complete three trials and should she complete them, she would earn Tamlin’s freedom.” 

“And Amarantha gave her everything she had. And this human woman bested her at every turn. She survived the abuse of the court and threats aimed at her friend, a Lucien Vanserra.” Mor straightened at the name. “She trapped the Middengard wyrm like it was a mouse and-”

“How did she do it?” Cassian asked, leaning forward. 

I couldn’t help myself but smile at the memory. Feyre covered in everything imaginable, eyes proudly defiant. Standing over the wyrm like a hunter presenting her fresh kill. “She lured it into a trap, making spikes to impale the wyrm on from the bones of the fae Amarantha had fed to the monster. And when she finished, smothered in the grime of the labyrinth, she threw one of those bones at Amarantha’s feet like a gods-damned javelin.” Azriel nudged Cassian, smiling. Mor kept peering at me with a mixture of pride and happiness. Amren looked as if she had heard this tale before but couldn’t place it. 

“Her trial with the Middengard wyrm left her injured. Her wound was festering. It was going to kill her if the conditions of the dungeon didn’t first. So I made her agree to a bargain with me. I at first wanted to do it to help her but selfishly, I didn’t want to let her go. I knew she would free us all and I could not bring myself to watch her leave. And she did. She beat Amarantha. She destroyed a piece of herself to do it when she was forced to murder two innocent fae and attempt the same on Tamlin, the man she had struggled to save. But she broke Amarantha’s curse and Amarantha killed her for it.” A collective inhale went around the table. “Snapped her neck like a twig.” I whispered, staring at my hands on the table. Nobody spoke or even dared to breathe. “And selfishly, I could not let her go again. I broke into every High Lord’s mind and forced them all to give her a piece of their magic. I watched each shimmering piece of light make a home inside her mortal body, including my own. I then had the pleasure of seeing her open her eyes for the first time as a High fae.” 

“The last I saw of her then was when I winnowed myself home, just after the mating bond snapped into place.” Just like that, the collective inhale was released and each member of my court was staring at me with a mixture of horror and acute pain. “She now resides at the Spring Court, betrothed to Tamlin. Beloved by the Spring Court as Feyre, the Cursebreaker. I have been asking Azriel to...to spy on her for my own peace and sanity.”

“Why?” Amren asked. 

“Why what, Amren?”

“Why would you let her go?” 

The question I have been asking myself this entire time. “I can’t justify taking her from the life she fought and died for. Not for me.”

“But Rhysand, you can’t leave her with Tamlin. That soulless wit doesn’t get a reward for doing nothing,” Cassian spat. “It isn’t right.”   
“I agree. She does not belong there, regardless of whether she knows it or not.” Amren clucked her tongue, setting her empty glass down. There was another disturbing thought. If Feyre knew and resented me for it. With how guileless she acted the night before, I doubted it but a shred of my mind feared that reality. 

I shook my head. “I refuse to force her hand. None of you will do so either. I command it of each one of you that you shall breathe no word of the mating bond. Even if she tells you her suspicions, you will refuse to confirm or deny.” 

“Rhysand. You can’t leave her defenseless.” Azriel stated matter-of-factly. 

“As of last night, I intend to train her as an Ambassador to the Human Realm as a part of our bargain,” I reasoned. “She will need to learn self-defense,” I glanced to Cassian, who nodded dutifully despite his glare. 

“Self-defense?” Mor spat. “She’ll need to learn control before even thinking about engaging in a fight. She is dangerous untrained.” 

I began to speak over Mor, “Feyre has learned enough to know how to-” 

Mor slammed her hand on the table, “Dammit Rhysand. Your idiotic sense of honor is blinding you to the danger. Did you not think that each sliver of magic that made her immortal also imparted some other gifts on Feyre as well? Soon enough she will awaken and then it will be too late, each High Lord will be vying to keep her.” I stopped breathing, my eyes met Cassian’s. “When that happens...it will be too late. She’ll know no peace. Especially if Tamlin plans to keep her locked up, open to the constant prodding and demands of court. If that happens, you’ll be lucky if all that happens is that she is kept in a cage.” 


	10. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

When I woke, I practically launched myself from the bed. Remembering that Rhysand had left I relaxed noticeably, cringing that if Tamlin had been present he would have witnessed me jumping like a lunatic from him. But Tamlin wasn’t present. In fact, he was notably absent. 

Alis poked her head in and began to set about my clothing for the day. Yawning, I swung my legs out from under the covers and stretched my arms above my head. Alis gasped when she turned around and looked at me. “My lady, what happened?” She didn’t give me time to recover, instead rushing to me. Her hands picked up the ends of my robe which were covered in mud. My feet were worse. Mud and grass covered my feet all the way to where my thighs hid beneath the once-white cotton robe. 

_ Last night wasn’t a dream then _ , I thought lightly. 

I realized belatedly that Alis had been speaking and the entire time I had been lost in my thoughts. Once I tuned into her words, I knew that all I had missed were the nervous ramblings about leaving the castle unguarded. “How did Bron and Hart let you do something so silly? And in this time of war?” As soon as she asked the question, her brows furrowed, undoubtedly reflecting her confusion.

I kept quiet, hoping I looked more confused than she did rather then as guilty as I felt. I knew in my heart that nothing wrong had occurred but my lie was all I needed to hate myself. “I’m not sure, Alis,” I whispered quietly, staring at my dirty feet. She gazed at me worriedly but I couldn’t return the stare without compounding the pool of guilt slowly filling me. After that, she all but carried me to the bathroom where she had hot water carried in by other Urisk servants. She kept me company in the bathroom while I washed away the dirt, telling me stories about her nephews that she took to raising after her sister and sister’s mate died. With each of Alis’s kind acts, I came closer to telling her what had really occurred. 

To keep my mind occupied, I worked on the mental walls Rhysand had shown me. As I imagined building them stronger I found I could tune out Alis to the point of muteness. I wasn't as happy after this thought.

But I lasted through the time spent with her and after she had laced me into another pink dress with white gloves, she left with a comforting smile. My hair was tucked into an intricate braid that fell down my back, decorated with daisies. When I studied myself, all I could see was Elain. Thinking of her in the dresses she’d eagerly embroider herself with every flower she could find. And suddenly, I had an idea and feeling as brave as ever, I went in search of Tamlin. 

He was found, easily enough, within the confines of his study pouring over a list of items with Lucien at his side. His study was a smaller room with large floor to ceiling windows letting soft light settle on the library shelves and expansive wooden desk he stood over. Six large plush seats were scattered around the room and a large map of Pyrithian was mounted on the wall. 

When he saw who entered, a soft smile graced his lips. It was these moments I found my heart fluttering again. “Well, I did not expect to see you here,” he said honestly. “You are much too interesting to spend time in this stuffy place.” He circled the desk to give me a chaste kiss on my forehead. 

Lucien watched with barely concealed discomfort. 

“I wanted to see what you were doing here since I find you too busy to sleep,” I smiled, peering at the desk. To my surprise, he smiled guiltily. And a flash of hope echoed in my chest.  _ There was the Tamlin I recognized.  _

“We are going over the war supplies for our troops. By tomorrow, I unfortunately will be leading them into the Summer Court to face Hybern.”

“These supplies won’t last us long at war,” Lucien sighed, dropping a quill in forfeit. He dropped into a plush chair behind the desk. 

“We will have to make it work,” Tamlin shook his head, leaving my side to round the table again. 

“Which supplies are lacking?” I asked curiously, sitting before the two on a plush chair. 

Lucien grimaced. “Food most severely. Armor is next but mostly food…” he leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Both of them looked tired from long nights spent talking tactics and war. From facing the possibility of death each night without any break. 

Swallowing my apprehension, I finally gathered all the courage I could to say “I had an idea on where we could acquire more food.” I had both of their attention the moment the words were out of my mouth. They looked surprised and cautious much to my chagrin. 

Tamlin smiled sadly. “You shouldn’t need to worry over such things, Feyre,” he stared down at the desk in despair. I could feel the self-loathing roiling off of him in waves. 

“But this is my home too,” I said softly. He popped his head up, studying me quietly. I continued to speak when he formed a small, appreciative smile. “Alone we are suffering for resources. But we do not have to act alone. We can go to others for help,” I led in. Both of them looked to be in pain, wondering where I was going with this. “I have two sisters in the human realm that can acquire as much human food as possible. It isn’t the same but it would give us more time. I could ride out today and-”

“You shouldn’t leave the manor, it isn’t safe,” Tamlin shook his head. I pursed my lips to prevent myself from saying anything ugly.  _ He wants to keep me safe _ , I reminded myself.  _ He doesn’t know how it impacts you.  _ Rhysand had been right to say that I had been woefully under informed but that had been because I had allowed it and Tamlin gracefully accepted my compliance. That needed to stop now. 

“Tamlin,” Lucien hissed, holding his hand in my direction. “This is our answer on a silver platter. I’ll not lose another night’s sleep pouring over grain logs when the solution is just a few leagues south.” 

“Lucien, I value your counsel but I will make the final decisions here. Especially when it concerns the safety of my betrothed,” Tamlin’s voice was low and dangerous, almost growling. 

That’s the funny part about bravery. Once you do one courageous act, you find yourself committing to plenty more. Without any forethought, I rose up to my full height and declared, “I will be plenty safe, Tamlin. If I cannot handle a journey to the human realm then we have much larger problems than my safety. Bron and Hart can guard me and I am sure the soldiers you have trained are more than competent to see to their lady’s safe return.” 

Tamlin was watching me with furrowed brows and a frown. Like he didn’t recognize me anymore. My heart wished I would sit down and appease the High Lord just to see him happy but I knew in my soul I could not withstand a lifetime of living for others. “Then I want Lucien with you as well,” he finally capitulated. “I want a full guard as well.” 

I had barely heard his last words, my happiness had overridden my senses. Nothing could have prepared me for the feelings that swept through my body. In all the months that have passed, this was the first moment I had felt myself take a firm step forward with Tamlin. “We should ride out soon so we can make it there by midday,” I declared. “Though I want to remain safe,” I glanced at Tamlin. “We cannot march to my siblings home with a troop of fae soldiers. I should speak with them alone and then only Lucien should come in. My sister would hate having one fae in her home. Two is even worse but four, unthinkable.” 

Tamlin looked like he wanted to disagree but Lucien clasped a hand on his shoulder. “I will keep her safe, you have my word,” and Tamlin relaxed. I could see the tension dissolving from his shoulders. His lips formed a wry smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time since Tamlin and I had returned home, Tamlin watched me leave the manor and him behind. Lucien rode a pace ahead while Bron and Hart flanked me. Ten fae soldiers riding two abreast followed us out. We carried enough gold to purchase a season’s bounty of food for the soldiers. For heading into human lands, I felt like I was leading an army but I could hardly complain. I would be seeing my sisters. I would be helping the war effort in a meaningful way. I could almost forget how wretched I felt when I focused on these thoughts. 

Seeing Elain and Nesta left my stomach in tatters. I swayed between nervous excitement and overwhelming anxiety. I left home a human and I was returning a fae. The people they undoubtedly hated and I was bringing a platoon to their door. 

For the ride, I focused on what I would say to them. How I would introduce myself to them and then how I would reveal my fae traits without Nesta taking a fire poker to my skull. No time was long enough for me to develop a plan that wouldn’t leave Nesta and Elain shocked. I settled on using the most direct approach so I wouldn’t have to deceive them. I would be honest with my sisters even if it killed me to leave me so vulnerable. 

And much to my dismay, we were already approaching the Wall. It would barely be a few moments before we arrived at my sister’s manor. My hands gripped the reins tightly till they were white. “You look just as pleased to see your sisters as I would be to see my brothers,” Lucien stated, eyeing my hands. His golden eye whirred as it focused on my deathly pale fingers. “They are human, Feyre, what could you possibly have to fear from them?”

“If you believe my sisters are at all limited by being human then you will be doubly surprised,” I tried a shaky laugh. “I’ve never had the best relationship with them and now...I am not sure,” I looked down. “I am fae now. I don’t know if they will even recognize me…” I let the words go unsaid. I could hardly breathe thinking about it. 

“Feyre,” Lucien said, clamping a hand over mine. “Whatever happens, you have a home with us.” I wanted that to be all that was needed for me to feel comforted but I could hardly voice the concern that it might change. I had been sinking into myself for months. I didn’t feel worthy to stay at the Spring Court. 

I looked up and peaking through the woods was my sister’s manor, shining in the afternoon sun. “We are here,” I said softly. Lucien called for a stop and told the soldiers to encircle the home. Bron and Hart looked reluctant to leave my side but they eventually walked through the woods to take their post. Lucien motioned for me to lead and I walked ahead, not tearing my eyes off the house. We walked around it before approaching the edge of the woods where Lucien would wait before coming in. 

“You can do this,” Lucien said, before taking a step into the dark shadows the woods offered. His red hair would be a beacon if it caught the sunlight. Even that gold eye was an alarm ready to be sounded. 

I took a deep breath and stepped beyond the safety of the woods, raising the hood of my cloak to cover my fae ears.  _ Like that would help _ , I thought. Fae were unnaturally still and had some predatory traits that made humans automatically weary. Then the air of perfection that extended beyond beauty into a symmetry that was foreign to humans. 

The white manor was gleaming in the late morning sun. A circular drive ended at stone steps that led to a red painted door. The house had been spared no expense. It was outfitted with glass pane windows, a slate roof and decorative shrubbery lining the walkway. Small stepping stones lines the house as well that undoubtedly led to a garden Elain tended to religiously. 

As I approached, I rehearsed my planned speech while fidgeting. I rapped my knuckles on the wooden door and a servant immediately swung the door open. All notions of planned conversations were swept from my mind. “Hello,” I greeted breathlessly. The woman who greeted the door peered at me from nearly a half foot beneath me, somehow managing to look at me down her nose. Her grey hair was tucked into a cap at the nape of her neck. “Are my sisters here?” I asked. 

She continued to assess me with suspicion warping her old features with each passing moment. In both a lucky and unlucky turn of events, Nesta appeared behind the woman. Once Nesta laid eyes on me she ordered the servant to find Elain and stepped outside to meet me on the step. “Feyre,” she said so quietly I would never have heard her had I been human. Her lips were severe and thin being pressed so tightly together. 

“Nesta...I...I don’t-” before I could speak, Elain had thrown open the door and tossed herself at me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, knocking her head into my own. I caught her easily, barely even thrown off balance. In my arms, she was lighter than a feather. 

“I was so worried,” she whispered, holding tightly. 

Nesta was staring at me from the stoop, staring at me. My hood had fallen when Elain hugged me and Nesta was rapidly assessing my ears, fae traits and the unnatural ease with which I had caught Elain. “Step away, Elain,” Nesta ordered. 

“I would never hurt you,” I supplied, placing Elain gently on the ground. Elain looked in confusion before stalling on my ears. “Is there a way we can speak privately?” I asked, meeting both their eyes. Nesta looked torn between taking Elain and running and the responsibility of welcoming me home. I felt her pain well. “Please,” I practically begged. 

Nesta snapped out of her thoughts and nodded quickly. “Elain, go inside and send the servants home for the day. I’ll bring Feyre to the garden.” Elain backed away from me before slipping inside the door. Nesta, once the door clicked shut, took a step in my direction. “Swear it to me now that you will do everything we say from this moment out while you are in our home. That you cannot lie to us. That you make this deal of your own free will.” 

“Nesta,” I breathed out. She didn’t trust me. I couldn’t say I blamed her. I met her steel eyes and nodded, “I agree Nesta. I would never hurt you or Elain.” 

She didn’t reply, instead leading the way down the path. I followed wordlessly. I tried to sneak a glance at the woods to see if Lucien was near but he had hidden himself well. I hoped he knew to follow and that despite seeming otherwise, Nesta wasn’t going to kill me.  _ At least not where Elain would see _ , I mentally laughed. I tried not to be bitter about their relationship but always failed. 

Walking behind her, I could study her more closely. Nesta had remained unchanged since I had last seen her. Nesta was simply beautiful in a midnight blue dress with long sleeves and a neckline that stretched from shoulder to shoulder. She kept her chin raised with that imperial bearing. Her hands neatly clasped at her waist. She could compete with Rhysand for who could intimidate more. Especially with the glare she occasionally threw at me. 

Rounding the house, Nesta continued past a large lawn with even larger gardens. A few paces past was a path that was protected by a wooden arbor. Beautiful honeysuckle blooming in vibrant fuschia climbed up the arbor and hung above my head. The woods had large hydrangea bushes just past the path and ever so often a tree bearing fruit. I could only laugh knowing Elain had crafted this garden with a precision only she commanded. 

The path ended with a wooden gazebo with white wrought iron tables and chairs. I would have thought this place perfect for a midday tea if not for the fact every flat surface possessed a potted plant. And the gardening tools and dirt haphazardly scattered around. 

Nesta took a seat and motioned for me to do the same. We sat in uncomfortable silence until Nesta decided to address me. “Elain is engaged. She is engaged to a man that hates fae and makes a point to hunt them.” I gaped. Nesta inspected the grounds pointedly. “But Elain loves him. I won’t let you take this from her.” 

I scoffed. “Yes Nesta. Because I have strived my entire life to make you and Elain miserable.”  
“Do not take the tone with me. You know that I mean your...change. He will never meet you or know you.”

“And what if he did? Would you allow him to hunt me?” 

“The man is a fool,” Nesta laughed harshly. “Even if you never hunted a day in your life or were still human you could handle any attacks he attempted.”

“Careful, that might have been a complement,” I said flatly.

Nesta measured me for a minute. “That was a comment on his incompetence, not your skill Feyre,” her lips upturned and I returned the smile doubly. Sighing, she continued. “I don’t think you would aim to hurt Elain. Even if you are fae. I just won’t stand seeing her miserable.” 

“Neither would I,” I assured. 

When Elain appeared, she was holding a red tea tray. “I hope you like jasmine tea. It’s newly arrived,” Elain proved my earlier notions wrong by balancing the tea on an empty pot that she balanced on the rims of two other pots. She withdrew three tea cups and began to pour. “Do you take cream? Sugar?”

I took both and Nesta none. Elain scooped in more sugar into her cup that I thought she would need to go back to the house to get more. When we were all settled with our tea, Nesta launched her assault. “What happened, Feyre?” Elain brought her shaking tea cup to her lips. 

Sucking in a breath, I began to tell my story. “I went to save Tamlin.” I told them about Amarantha and the trials I endured. Elain barely sipped her tea after that, staring at her teacup like it offended her. Nesta kept her eyes distant. When I told them finally about Amarantha snapping my neck and all the High Lords returning me to life, I found myself struggling to breathe. “I do not hold it against them for returning me to the world of the living.” I swallowed through the thickness in my throat. “I am happy I am here today. But know that I did not choose to be fae.” I hoped Lucien and the rest could not hear me but resigned myself to knowing they most likely did. 

Nesta’s eyes were watery with pain. “I wish that had not happened to you.” 

“It did and I am forced to move past it. But that isn’t why I am here,” I shook my head, choosing to focus on my future. Push away all the uncomfortable feelings and thoughts I couldn’t yet face. “Amarantha was a general for King Hybern. And that king is now attacking the fae world. A war has already started and we are woefully unprepared.” They remained silent, waiting for me to finish. “Hybern...he is not going to stop until he has conquered everything. He kills anyone he wishes and leaves behind a meal for crows.” 

“No more,” Nesta warned, looking at the tears escaping Elain’s eyes. 

“You need to know what we face.” 

“No, this isn’t our fight. We are not fae.” 

My patience ended and I snapped, “Hybern won’t care about that. He’ll see everyone enslaved, starting with the humans beneath the Wall. You can send me away and refuse to ever speak to me again but the war won’t ignore you.” 

“Then why are you here?” Nesta glared. 

“If we are going to have any chance...any chance at winning, we need food. Almost every court suffered from Amarantha and we are no exception. Our armies need supplies. I can’t trade with humans. By the time I found a human who wanted to, it would be too late. I want you two to act in my stead and buy us food.” 

“No. If anyone were to find out we made a deal with the fae...if Elain’s fiance found out,” Nesta shook her head. “They would hang us.” Elain was staring at her dress of soft pink, like mine. 

“We will protect you, Nesta. But we can’t do this without you.” I assured her. 

“I do not want any fae stepping foot in our home or on our land.” My guilty expression was enough for Nesta to snarl, “You brought some with you? How could you be so reckless?” 

I rose to my feet, setting my tea cup on the table. “Do you think Hybern is going to spare Elain?” Nesta watched me like you did a predator you needed to contain. “Hybern and his soldiers are not going to let the chance go to waste that you two are my sisters. I’ve already killed his prized general. You two are targets right now.” 

Elain swallowed. I could hear her heartbeat frantically. “We will help you, Feyre,” she squeaked. “We will even accept any protection you offer.” Nesta’s head whipped to Elain but Elain raised a gloved hand. “There is no choice here Nesta. It is the right thing to do.” 

I let go of the breath I had been holding since Nesta met me at the front door. Nesta clutched the arms of her metal chair, choosing to aim her glare at the woods. “Then if you permit it, I’d like to invite my friend here. We can speak with him about plans,” I said. Nesta swallowed whatever foul curse I could sense forming in her. Giving a regal and abrupt nod instead. I turned to the woods, looking around me for where Lucien would be waiting. 

Sensing that it was appropriate to approach, Lucien emerged from the woods I had been peering into. Only briefly shocked I had known where he was without seeing, I shook that away in favor of watching my sister’s expression. The sun caught his hair and made it fire. Dressed in a brown doublet with embroidered gold thread, he was the living embodiment of fall. His golden eye whirred, glancing from me to my sisters in quick succession. 

He stopped at the foot of the gazebo, not taking the step onto the platform. One look at Nesta and I could see why he didn’t want to come any further. Despite her gripping her chair with white knuckles, she was sending a murderous glare at him. He bowed at the waist. “It is an honor to meet Feyre’s sisters. My name is Lucien Vanserra.” His long red hair glinted in the sunlight and his tanned skin seemed golden. When no one replied, he continued unsurely, “I suspect Feyre has informed you of why we are here. We would supply you the gold for purchase and even more to compensate. I could promise a small group of trustworthy soldiers to protect you both here.” 

My sisters studied him in silence. Nesta could possibly grow fangs if he remained any longer. Elain was shaking slightly. Lucien seemed accustomed to Nesta’s behavior. His eyes followed Elain’s motions instead. I wanted to warn him that doing so made Nesta’s attitude towards him worse. When the silence had drawn on long enough, Elain stood abruptly, bumping the table and rattling all the teacups and pots. “Would you like tea?” she whispered. 

“We don’t have any more cups,” Nesta provided. 

“Oh I could get some,” Elain provided, shooing Nesta’s comment away. She still held her teacup and I suspected even Nesta could see the cup shaking softly. She seemed so small. Fragile like a leaf in the wind. Elain’s one hand was smoothing over the apron she had over her pink dress that was smudged with dirt. She wore gardening gloves even though we were at tea. Her hair was let down to cascade in soft curls down her back but it had strays speaking to how much time she spent tending her garden. Her appearance was the right balance between delicate and capable while Nesta contrasted Elain with her severity. 

“It’s alright. I’m content,” Lucien replied steadily, smiling softly at her. Elain’s cheeks flushed red and she bobbed her head. I couldn’t tell if she liked Lucien or was terrified of him from how embarrassed she was. 

Nesta, ready to spit venom, interrupted, “I want to meet each fae you expect to guard us.” The way she said fae sounded much like the way I would say Amarantha. 

“Nesta,” I warned. 

“This is our home, Feyre. I’ll know who is watching it,” she stated. 

“That is quite reasonable,” Lucien nodded. “I’ll hand pick them myself.” Nesta seemed placated by his polite and delicate treatment. 

“Alright then,” Nesta said firmly. “What would you have us do? I don’t expect Elain to march into town and pick up twenty sacks of flour.” Elain giggled softly. “And I don’t think fae soldiers can be seen marching to and from our home.” 

“Ask Father to order the supplies from different vendors. Where is he?” I had not even missed his absence. I wanted to be upset over this fact but couldn’t find it within myself. 

“He’s trading somewhere in the East,” Nesta shrugged. “I can forge his signature well enough. We’ll have them delivered to this house and then what? They magically find there way to your army? You do have an army, right?” she lifted an eyebrow and I wanted to hiss asking where her army was but held back. 

Lucien chuckled. I bit my cheek to prevent myself from laughing at the flat look Nesta swung his way. “High Lord Tamlin’s army will be very grateful to hear this news. We will send soldiers to retrieve the supplies. Every two weeks?” Nesta curtly nodded. 

“When will this end, then?” Nesta asked. 

Lucien and I glanced at one another. Looking back, I said simply, “When we win.” 


	11. Agree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

My hands were slightly clammy when night came. I would winnow to Feyre soon and that made me unbearably nervous. With my inner circle’s earlier revelation today, my heartbeat was near frantic. How I had overlooked something so critical was beyond all comprehension. Mor had underwent the same trauma centuries ago and I was reliving the same events with Feyre. 

The only comfort I had was that Tamlin would rather shred each High Lord to pieces before ever subjecting Feyre to a forced marriage like Mor had gone through. In this effort, I could at least trust that Feyre was safe. My inner circle had vowed they would not tell Feyre of our mating bond but they pushed for me to do so myself. Not to force it on her but to tell her the truth so she could decide what to do before I threw myself into a bargain with her. I knew they were right. 

When the moon had reached its apex, I threw caution to the wind and winnowed to the edge of the Spring Court manor. Another short winnow had me blending into shadow inside the manor’s halls and I listened briefly for where I knew Tamlin and Feyre shared a room. Silence and only one heartbeat. Taking my chances, I winnowed into their bedroom and found Feyre sprawled on their bed with a few books scattered about. 

When she looked up and saw me, a brief smile crossed her lips. My heart was jumping like I was a young again. That smile was easily replaced by a scowl and she launched from the bed, taking the book I had given her and threw it at me. Caught off guard, the book flew through the air and hit my temple. Bouncing off and fluttering to the ground, she stood heaving. I stood still, startled. Her fists were gripping for more things to throw and throw she did. She tore another book from her nightstand and tossed it but this time I was prepared, easily catching it. “ _Rhysand is the most handsome high lord?_ ” she screeched incredulously. Her trust in my ability to build a wall around the room impenetrable to sound was humbling. “Rhysand is the most delightful high lord? The most cunning high lord?” she hurled another book, grunting from the effort. 

Catched the book with ease, I ventured, “Thank you?” She huffed and chucked another book my way. “Consider me impressed you got so far in your studies,” I picked up the book I left for her and flipped through it. I had manifested it to guide her through her letters and sentences and found she had completed it mostly. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” she accused, raising a book high above her hand like a silent threat. 

“Teaching you to read and write,” I replied without any sarcasm. 

She pursed her lips. “You can help without pulling any crap like this,” she hissed. 

“But where is the fun in that, Feyre?” I asked. She assessed me silently with an accusatory stare before turning away and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wonder what else you have practiced. How are your mental shields?” I sought out the mental bond and began to push on what I suspected she had been practicing since last night. With her walls so fortified, my suspicions were confirmed. “Excellent,” I practically purred. She shivered a little, wrapping her arms around her torso. 

Last night she had been accusatory and energetic. Seeing her now, she appeared exhausted. Withdrawn even. “Come, Feyre. We are traveling again,” I extended my hand. She stared for a long moment at it before rising to her feet and extracting a pair of riding boots from her closet. She laced them up before standing besides me.

Once she placed her hand in mine, I drew her close. I relished this one moment. The innocent contact of her hand in mine was captivating. Her proximity let me smell of roses and moonlight. Shaking myself from the reverie she provided, I winnowed into the Day Court on a beach overlooking the eastern ocean. She stepped away from me the moment her eyes opened, walking to look at the expanse of ocean under the night sky. I was only the slightest bit dissapointed she had grown so used to winnowing that she no longer clung to me. 

“If this is the Day Court, then why is it night?” she turned, asking me with wide eyes. 

I smiled. “We still abide by the laws of nature, Feyre. But the day is far more spectacular here than anywhere else.” 

She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t see what’s so special about the day…” she muttered. “It’s just the sun.” 

I barked a laugh, “Someday you will have to tell Helion what you said and I would pay good money to watch that.” She cocked her head in confusion. “Helion is the High Lord of the Day Court. You probably did not meet him Under the Mountain. He was significantly impacted from being in the dark all the time,” I explained somberly. 

Taking my explanation, she walked ahead of me and I followed. I watched her closely, taking the time to admire her. She was in a long pink dress with white gloves that extended nearly to her shoulder. The gloves I expected to have been a request on Tamlin's part which explained my inability to see her during the course of the day.

She studied everything closely, hiking her dress up around her knees so she could move unimpeded. She knelt before a bush with small blue flowers and began to inspect it carefully.

I wondered what the Night Court colors would do to her appearance. She looked so soft right now. In those colors she could almost pass as carefree and delicate. But there was a cunning edge in her eyes. Each step she took was purposeful. She commanded attention and respect even though she barely was aware of her own budding abilities. These were traits that would make her life at the Spring Court difficult. The seasonal courts were, throughout history, notably archaic in some of their beliefs. The Spring Court alongside the Autumn Court still held fast to these beliefs. I tried my best to contain these fears to myself.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I made progress with the human realm?” she broke my train of thoughts. 

I looked at her, still studying the same bush. “Do you want me to ask you?” 

She shrugged. “I thought you would want to. Tamlin almost tore off the front door to the manor to hear of my journey to see my sisters.” 

“You have sisters?” I ventured quietly. 

“Yeah,” she huffed, pulling a flower from the bush. “Two. Nesta and Elain.” 

“How...how did they take your change?” I hardly wanted to ask the prying question. I could barely contain it though. _Do you hate me for what I have done to you?_ For the thousandth time that day, I thought back to Mor’s words. _If you do not resent me now, will you resent me later? Have I doomed you?_

Another shrug. “They hate fae. Elain might be more accepting but she’s engaged to a dedicated fae hunter so we can see where that will end. I can’t decide if Nesta was more bothered by my presence or that it was my _fae_ presence. It’s always been difficult with Nesta,” she had stopped looking at the bush but gazed up at the stars. Feeling it was not my place to pry or comment any further, I remained silent. “Do you have any siblings?” 

She caught me off guard with the question and my mask of casual slipped into shock. I nodded dumbly, kneeling besides her. Clearing my throat, “I had a sister.” Thoughts turned back to long dark hair with a too-wide smile. Mischievous purple eyes to match mine. 

Catching the past tense, Feyre stilled. “I’m sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago.”

“And feels just as fresh,” she returned quietly. I agreed with a slight nod. She met my eyes shyly for perhaps the first time, smiling briefly. I wondered how many times I would see that smile before I would have to ultimately say goodbye. “I brought Lucien with me. We were going to acquire human food for the spring soldiers. And my sister Nesta looked like she was going to decapitate him with her teacup,” she smiled even broader now at the memory. “I feel terrible for laughing now since Lucien had to endure the full weight of her wrath but he never had a chance.”

I laughed with her. “I think I would like to meet your sisters. Especially this Nesta. Seems like quite the character,” I said politely. 

“Be careful what you ask for. Your High Lord powers wouldn’t phase her,” Feyre shook her head. She stilled before her smile faded and then lost all traces of her previous mirth, “So you don’t wish to ask me about the human realm?”

“Why should I? It seems like you have it handled and that is a blessing for me,” I shrugged with feigned nonchalance. 

She ducked her head, accepting the complement. “I only did it to get food for the human realm. I don’t think…” she trailed off, bringing her nail to her mouth to chew. I pressed a hand over hers, bringing the offending limb away. “I don’t think Tamlin intends to tell me of the Cauldron. If I bring it up then I’d have to admit where I heard that...and he wouldn’t like that at all,” she admitted shyly. “I don’t think I can do what you ask of me.”

Taking a moment to think, I nodded. “You’re still our only hope.” She looked inclined to disagree. I leaned the slightest bit forward and she turned to meet my stare. “I was serious. Your words will carry a weight that no other persons ever could. You command loyalty and respect like a true born leader. You could spit in their faces and gain their favor when a thousand declarations of undying love from any High Lord would only make more scorn,” I laughed softly and she smiled in turn. 

Nodding, she asked, “How could I meet with these Queens?” Her unsaid question rang just as loud, _how would Tamlin not find out?_ “I might speak pretty words but I am not a High Lord. I’m just a fae.” 

I laughed again, shocking her. “Feyre. You are most certainly not _just_ a fae. Even as a human, you were never just that either. As for meeting with the Queens, let me figure out how I can spirit you away but in the meantime, write a letter. Make it your best for it very well will determine our fate.” 

Her flat stare sent me reeling. It slowly turned into a glare. “I can hardly write, you utter ass,” she hissed. “And you want me to write a letter?” 

“You seemed to pick it up rather quickly, Feyre. Unless you assigned the homework to your chambermaid. But at least this gives us time,” I said with a sigh. She quirked her mouth. I learned this would be another symbol of her exasperation. “If you’re going to be doing any missions on my behalf, you should at least know how to defend yourself.”

She straightened. “I _do_ know how to defend myself.”

“Feyre, I feel poor for having to inform you of this but you cannot just throw books at people that displease you. There is a bit more involved if you take my meaning.” 

She rolled her eyes which earned her a smile from me. “Fine. I’ll learn but I don’t want to train with you. You probably sweat a lot,” she teased. 

“I...I sweat...a lot?” I asked, at a loss for words. Shaking off her words, “Fine, I’ll get you a _different_ instructor.” She smiled joylessly at me in mock victory. I would have to tell Cassian that she deserves no mercy. “So we are in agreement then. You’ll write this letter by day and when I visit, you’ll train by night?” 

She sniffed at me in distaste. “And you’ll do what? Be my carrier pigeon?” 

I pressed my lips together to keep another laugh contained. I’d have to pass this one onto Cassian and Azriel. “Yes, Feyre darling, I will be your carrier pigeon.”


	12. Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I said goodbye to Tamlin the following morning. He was leading the Spring Court army north into the Summer Court to aid the troops that were exhausted there. He had forgone his casual doublet and pants, swapping for hardened leather armor, gauntlets and greaves. His soldiers were outfitted completely in much the same, either astride a horse or walking in formation. As lady of the manor, I was expected to watch the entire formation march from the Spring Court. 

I knew I should have been waving a handkerchief or shouting hopes of good fortune but my mind was bringing me back to the desolation of Pacifico. This wasn’t a distant war but just over the border. The showcase of these soldiers was meant to boost their moods but it all fell flat for me. I could not guarantee that they would return. I could not even tell them that I would fight alongside them. That I would guard their back throughout the war. There was not a single word I could say to comfort them while they marched towards a likely death. 

The only useful way I could contribute was pouring all my energy into the letter I would hand to Rhysand for the Human Queens. So when the procession had ended and the last of the army was no longer visible on the hills, I turned on my heel and planted myself in the library. Bron and Hart followed dutifully behind and stood on either side of the doors, giving me much desired privacy. 

I vowed to help despite the overwhelming face of defeat and I wouldn’t break my word. I flipped open the book Rhysand had left for me anew and stubbornly worked through the problems. Alis had left lunch and trays of tea by my table but I refused to stand until I had finished half of the book.

Rhysand had taken his arrogance to another level. I begrudgingly completed every exercise. Servants appeared to clean the library and worked around me. I took no notice, only ensuring the book’s contents were covered. I could see how well that would go had anyone found out the contents of the book. My eyes ached from staring so long that I forced myself to shut the book. I rose stiffly from the table and took a bite of the sandwiches Alis had prepared for me. They were dry and bland to me. I stuck to the fruit afterwards, neglecting the tea as well. 

Tapping my quill on the desk, I stared at the wall of books opposite from me. I pulled one at random and looked at the cover,  _ Tales from the War.  _ Feeling brave, I cracked open the book and blew off the thick layer of dust. I curled up on one of Tamlin’s cushy chairs and started from the beginning. Reading at first was an exercise in concentration. Sounding out the words in whispers so no one would overhear. Then, they began to flow into one another. I recognized more and could work through sentences quicker. Words I had not recognized I scribbled down for future reference. I had finished the first chapter feeling accomplished. 

_ And this book has no pictures _ , I told myself proudly. I replaced the book on the shelf. Dusk was settling into the hall. The library was cast in hazy yellow which caught the dust floating in the air making it like a dream or a painting. Finding the moment to myself, I picked up my quill and ventured a quick sketch. I drew in the towering wall of the library shelves with the windows directly opposite. Highlighting the rays of sunlight. Making the chairs and tables an inviting space for someone to spend their time studying, like I had done. 

Though once I finished, my frown returned. I stuck the drawing as a hastily made bookmark inside my practice booklet. Shame made it hard to swallow.  _ I shouldn’t be wasting my time.  _ Learning to read and write. Writing the letter to the Human Queens. Convincing them to give me their piece of the Book of Breathings. Using it to destroy the Cauldron. There was so much to do and I found myself drawing. 

I needed to have much more discipline. 

“My lady?” Alis poked her head in. “Would you care for dinner?” 

“No thank you Alis,” I replied. 

“You barely touched your lunch. Or your breakfast.” 

“I’m not very hungry is all.” 

“Then how about the desert?” she tempted, raising a dark eyebrow. Her lips curled into a knowing smile. “I heard that the harvest of strawberries was plenty. I’ll even let you help make it.” 

I quirked my lips. “Alright, Alis. You win.” She smiled victoriously and turned to lead the way. Something appeared in my peripheral vision and for a fearful moment, I thought Rhysand came early. Every curse in the world was forming at my lips at that pest. When Alis didn’t scream upon turning around, I relaxed. “Alis, I’ll meet you in a moment? I would like to have a moment.” She frowned, about to reject but ended up dipping her head. The moment the door closed after her, I turned. Nothing stood there. No High Lord waiting to winnow me away. I rounded a cushioned chair and on the floor, was a neatly wrapped parcel. A note on the top. 

The black cloth wrapping gave it’s origins away. “How obvious can he be?” I muttered. I pulled at the silk bow and it fell away to reveal a dark-stained leather vest. A black tunic was next and pants to match. As I studied the fine make of the clothing, I turned to find another parcel had appeared. Unwrapping those revealed a pair of leather boots. 

I opened the note finally.

_ Feyre Darling,  _

_ If you can read this, wear this tonight for your first class in self-defense.  _

_ -Your faithful Carrier Pigeon _

I huffed indignantly. I took the clothes and stacked them on my books. Then I paused, staring at my bounty. I couldn’t leave with these in hand. Too many questions. I took the clothing and boots and stuck them underneath a couch with a dust ruffle.  _ It would have been too easy to deliver these to my bedroom with minimal inconvenience?  _

Leaving the library annoyed, I faced Alis who raised an eyebrow at my appearance. “Lead the way,” I motioned. Alis placed me at a bench in the kitchen underground. Bron and Hart leaned on the wall behind me, next to the stairs that led to the manor. They quickly procured sticky buns that were left cooling on a rack. 

A thin window that touched the low hanging ceiling provided a small stream of sunlight. The kitchen had multiple fireplaces set against the back wall but only one was lit. Long wooden counters flanked the left and right of the kitchen where the fae no doubt stood in assembly lines to produce the food necessary for feasts. Several other servants were there but they were pickling beets, sitting at the bench across from mine. Alis had picked the wooden bench closest the fireplace to ward off the damp chill present in the basement kitchen. Bread was sitting to bake on large stone plates sitting over the fire, sending off sweet aromas. With no guests in the manor, the extensive kitchen seemed empty. Peaceful and inviting with the sour vinegar from pickling and sweet from the rising dough. 

Alis produced a basket of strawberries from a cold cellar. I took the fingers of my gloves and pulled them off my arms to sit away from the mess. Alis’s eyes, along with everyone else’s I suspected, were immediately drawn to the tattoo that started at my fingertips and ended at my elbow. I had always thought it quite an elegant token to remain after Amarantha’s death. 

Alis and I cut the strawberries into quarters under the tentative watch of the fae besides us. She brought out baking ingredients and assembled the batter, letting me drop in the strawberries. We sat it on the edge of the fireplace to bake and waited patiently. The fae had taken to staring at my tattoo which prompted me to cross my arms around my torso.

“Yes?” I asked, meeting the eyes of the fae sitting at a different bench. Alis stilled. 

“There were rumors of a bargain between you and him,” a small fae with impossibly large eyes said. “Rumors that he claimed the right to your first born child. That he took a piece of your heart and keeps it locked away like blackmail. That whatever he asks, you must answer truthfully.”

“Torfalla,” Alis scolded. “And by what right do you question my lady for her treatment Under the Mountain? When she was fighting for our freedom?” 

Torfalla had enough sense to appear chastised. “I did not mean to imply you were wrong for accepting such a bargain. You have sacrificed so much, my lady.” I barely nodded, my stomach threatened to come up through my throat. “I am ashamed.”

Alis nodded curtly. “What the lady bargained with the High Lord is not our business.” 

When said like that, I winced. They were right though. The bargain was entirely private. Rhysand could have asked for anything from me and I would have been forced to grant it when I sat dying from infection. No wonder Tamlin had me cover it with gloves. It was a brand that reminded them all I had been touched by the High Lord of Night and it was enough to damn me. I didn’t blame them for thinking I was the High Lord’s object. A spy in their home. 

I was angry then. My cheeks felt hot and my eyes burned. I clenched my fists tightly. I was angry at Rhysand first for making me accept a bargain though I couldn’t fault him for acting in his own interests. I faulted Tamlin though. He never asked me what the bargain had contained. He could have cleared these rumors away with the truth but instead he had allowed his servants to whisper about my entanglement with Rhysand. Made me cover up the bargain like I was further corrupted by it’s visibility. Made me a martyr within my own home for a deal I had entered to save his life. 

I gritted my teeth to keep the tears from falling. The kitchen had become too much. The vinegar was too tart and the rising dough was cloying. The hairs on my arms raised. For a brief moment, all I smelled was the wind on a cloudless night. It’s crisp chill and soft tones of forest and mountains. 

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud pop. Another snap. The fireplace erupted into a pit of flames that spat out ashes and embers into the kitchen. Flames licked at the surrounding red brick and stone floor, looking for items to burn. The fae servants jumped away in fear, screaming. Bron and Hart flanked my sides in a second, hauling me by my arms away from the fireplace across the kitchen. Alis skirted around the bench to stand besides me, her hand clasping mine. 

Steps preceded Lucien who stood breathless in the doorway. “I heard the screams,” he announced, looking immediately at the fire. He started for the fireplace and raised a hand to the raging flames. In a collected motion, he swept the fire back within the chimney to a manageable height. The heat no longer licked my skin into a sweat but Bron and Hart each held onto my arms while Lucien subdued the flames. The area around the firepit that used to be stone was blackened and charred. Lucien’s face was hidden when he turned from the firepit to face us. The sun had descended on the western hills and we all stood in the shadows. “Who removed the maintenance spell on the firepit?” he asked, searching each of us. 

He focused on one fae who stepped forward who had reddish skin and wiry brown hair that stuck out at every angle. “I might be a fire sprite but I couldn’t break a spell  _ on  _ a fireplace,” the sprite defended. 

Lucien’s eyes found me, protected by Alis, Bron and Hart and pursed his lips. “Very well. I’ll investigate. Lady Feyre, you should not be down in the servant’s quarters.” He took a step towards me, picking my gloves up from the bench and motioning to the door. “Alis, please find a servant to clean this up.” He motioned to the fireplace where the burnt bread and cake sat at nothing more than char. “Thank you Bron and Hart for protecting the lady.” At his words, they released my arms. 

Lucien handed me my gloves but I didn’t slip them on. I followed him up the stairs with my  _ retinue _ in tow. When we reached the door to my bedroom, he stopped outside. He motioned for my party to keep their distance. It wouldn’t be right for Lucien to speak with me in my bedroom while Tamlin was away. The rumors would be atrocious. “What happened in the kitchen?”

I thought he meant to ask if I was alright but he had skipped sorting out the event. “I...I don’t know. We were baking and the fireplace tried to burn the manor down,” I replied, trying to keep the tears out of my eyes and panic from my voice. 

Lucien softened while he studied me. “Spells...don’t just break like that…” He seemed to be at a loss for words as he pushed a hand through his hair, moving long red strands away from his face.

“Well maybe the fire sprite accidentally pushed the flames,” I mumbled. 

“Sometimes when fae are young they have bursts of magic. Did you...feel something like that?” 

“How would I know what it feels like?” I returned. 

His eyebrows lifted in worry. His honest eyes searched my face. The golden one scanning every feature until he said, “I know you likely do not have magic but it can be dangerous when you’re young if you don’t watch for it. You can hurt people.” 


	13. Establish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I waited in the bedroom, flipping through the picture books I had on my nightstand. Now that I could read with some ease, I was eager to put stories behind the pictures I had been so obsessed with these last couple of months. Most of it was territorial disputes that were painted and then published in these books which left me ultimately disappointed. 

I wanted to give the appearance I would be asleep so I called Alis in to help me ready for bed. I didn’t bathe so at least if I looked a little dirty tomorrow, it wouldn’t be as suspicious. Alis had helped unlace my dress before handing me a white nightgown and a clean robe. “Thank you for bringing me to the kitchen today, Alis,” I said as she tucked my gown under an arm to be cleaned. 

She smiled for the first time since entering, “Of course my lady.” 

“I’m sorry it ended the way it did but maybe we could try some other time,” I bowed my head. 

“I’m not sure that is such a good idea. Lord Lucien had made it quite clear he didn’t like the idea of you in the servant’s quarters.” 

“And what is inappropriate about me being there?” I questioned. 

“There is no issue, my lady. Lord Lucien only wishes to please High Lord Tamlin. It has been made clear that your status as a Lady should not be questioned,” Alis’s fingers were trailing over the fine cloth of my dress. Her eyes downcast.

“And is that a question now? I thought you said the people wished to give me this title.” I had not wanted the status but now that it was being questioned, a possessiveness had taken over me. I wanted to believe I could be worthy of it and now it was revealed I was ultimately undeserving. 

Alis crossed the room to take my hands in hers in a bold move. I looked at our clasped hands, reveling in her comfort. I wonder what she would have thought if I told her she was one of my closest friends. “The people have given you the title, my lady. High Lord Tamlin thinks of the other Lords of his lands.” 

“I wasn’t aware I was such a topic of contention,” I scoffed, crossing my arms. 

“Only to those who do not know you, my lady. They will see you as we do.” Her eyes were childlike in how wide with awe they grew. Her wooden thumb smoothed over my knuckles. 

I was reminded of the earlier conversation in the kitchen. “As the High Lord of the Night Court’s pet?” I asked bitterly. 

She flinched, freezing in place. When she realized that Rhysand was not summoned by his mere mention, she whispered, “You are not a pet, my lady. You are your own master and I’ll not see you brought low by those who would dare judge your decisions.” 

Her words were so honest it was painful. I desired nothing more than to confide in her my confusing bargain with Rhysand. For her to know him to be an impassioned fae male like I did. But I knew that like how the Spring Court perceived me, they would not know what to think until they met me. And unfortunately, the High Lord of the Night Court was too busy to spend arranging social calls here in the Spring Court. 

_ Then what did I call our nightly visits?  _ I thought. And like magic, I had an answer:  _ A bargain.  _

Alis left me in bed but I didn’t sleep. I read a little but shifted restlessly. 

I had attempted to sneak back to the library and safely transport the clothes Rhysand had sent but Bron and Hart, ever faithful, were standing studiously outside my door. Thinking myself so clever, I had asked them to see if I could get a late night snack. They simply nodded, summoned Alis and that left me with a tray of cheese, bread and olives on my nightstand untouched. I would have to wait till Rhysand arrived.

Earlier than midnight, Rhysand did arrive. But he was absent from his kurta and instead wearing a black doublet with a dark leather breastplate where scales of steel had been painstakingly layered over it to make it distinctly snake-like. He only wore a vambrace of similar style, forgoing the gauntlets I had seen Tamlin in earlier. His pants had also been dyed to black and greaves guarded his shins before meeting dark leather boots that were laced along the outside of the ankle. 

His appearance had turned his imposing stature into a threat. I had seen him in finery in Amarantha’s court and then casual court clothes now visiting me but never dressed like he was. A soldier. A live weapon. Tamlin had appeared quite normal in his armor. Just protective leather pieces fitted over more durable clothing but Rhysand had transformed. 

His lips pursed. “You aren’t changed. Did you get my gift?” 

“I would have been if the clothes weren’t captive in the library. Someone winnowed me clothing into the library. What would have happened if someone had seen? Alis was present when they appeared,” I crossed my arms, standing in my nightgown and robe. 

“I did not know where you were, I sent the gifts to your location. For someone who just received a gift, you do not sound happy,” he lifted an eyebrow. 

“You wouldn’t be either if you had a near heartattack thinking the enemy of the entire court just appeared bearing gifts!” I cried out. “What were you thinking, I could have been anywhere. If you had appeared before Tamlin, you would have been attacked.”

He tensed a little, facing me directly. “You consider me an enemy of your court?” 

“Well Tamlin thinks-”

“I asked if you did.” 

The Feyre that wanted to appease Tamlin would have declared the High Lord of Night an enemy without present hesitation. That Feyre would have never made bargains with him or went on nightly strolls, secretly enjoying the company. But I was no longer that girl. I had shed a naive layer of myself that thought the world could neatly be sorted into the good and bad. I had to if I ever expected to look at myself in the mirror again; if I was to ever call myself good, I would have to accept that sometimes good people do terrible things. And I had done terrible things. 

That left me assessing Rhysand in a hazy shade of grey. Another person who had done terrible things but was a good person ultimately. 

Feeling lighter, I shook my head. “No Rhysand, I don’t consider you my enemy.” 

His deep violet eyes watched me intently. I didn’t suspect he was measuring me for my honesty. He was looking at me in the way that expressed gratitude. “I don’t consider you my enemy either, Feyre.” 

“Does that make us allies?” I voiced.

“It does if that is what you’d like,” he agreed. I nodded in agreement and he held out his arm for me. I took it quickly and we winnowed to the foyer of the estate.  _ This male was getting more brash by the moment _ , I glanced around quickly to check for guards. He whispered directly into my ear, “We cannot be seen, Feyre. I’ve hidden us behind some shadow,” he lightly urged me towards the library doors. A shiver ran up my spine. 

“Why didn’t you just winnow us  _ inside  _ the library?” I whispered back. 

“I do not make it a point to explore Tamlin’s property,” he replied ominously, jerking his chin to force me away. “Now move quickly.”

I slipped inside the library. It was cast in blue from the full moon. Surprisingly, I wasn’t unnerved by the dark. I scurried to the couch with the dust ruffle and dragged out the clothing. Stupidly, I checked for an audience before casting aside my robe and nightgown. I slipped the doublet on and then the pants. I forgot most normal dressings like socks and undergarments but forged on anyway. I stuck my feet into the boots which snuggly fit to my feet. The vest was a little more difficult. I had to lace it up and over my chest but I barely could pull the strings taught. I gave up when it was tight enough to stay put and ran back to Rhysand. 

When I emerged, he looked at me with the appraising eye only a High Lord could have. Possessive. “You could have asked for help, Feyre,” he smirked before pulling me towards him and then we were winnowing half-way across the continent. I let my hands, trapped between us, settle on his leather and steel clad chest. Trying to think of anything but the comforting smell of citrus. My head was being lulled into his soothing presence. 

The roaring wind gave way to strong gusts of wind, once again on a beach. “What, Day Court?” I jested. 

“No. The Autumn Court,” he shrugged. “They aren’t exactly our best allies so don’t stray too far during your training.” 

“Why are we visiting each court? I’ve been to the Summer, Dawn, Day and now the Autumn. Is this my first tour of Pyrithian because I was expecting more luxurious accommodations,” I motioned towards the beach. It wasn’t a conventional beach with sand and humid air. The wind was colder and the sand was replaced by small dark grey pebbles. 

Rhysand shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets. “Moving our meeting places keeps them more secret and you should be seeing every court. The world does not end at the Spring Court barriers.” 

His jab stung and I felt disappointment cling to me. Trying once more for civility, I asked, “And when will I visit the Night Court?” 

His head picked up and he was once again fixing me with that stare. “When you are ready Feyre, I will take you to my home.”

“I thought we would already be there considering all our meetings happen at night.” 

“That is because during the day you are expected to be present,” Rhysand’s jabs were getting tiresome. He shifted from one foot to another, constantly looking to the night sky. I followed his gaze but saw nothing. And like a lightning bolt hitting a tree, instantaneous enlightenment found me.  _ He was nervous.  _ “I am not,” he replied, kicking up pebbles. I forgot that my barrier had been down and I flushed, hoping that he had not heard my earlier thoughts when we winnowed. 

“Then why are you so flustered?” I called him out. 

“I’m not flustered-” 

“You are lying to me and I do not like it. If you lie again, I want you to take me home,” I folded my arms over my chest. 

He turned an exasperated look on me. “And what about our bargain?” 

“Our bargain barely has rules, Rhysand. You can take me home or I will walk home. Spring Court is south, right?” I turned on my heel and began my solemn march. I heard a curse and Rhysand jogged after me, falling into step. 

“Feyre, when I said the Autumn Court wasn’t an ally, I meant at all. They aren’t friends...to anyone really,” he shoved a hand through his dark hair. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to spontaneously develop self defense skills-” 

Rhysand grabbed my arm and twirled me to face him, not unkindly. “Alright, I’ll tell you.” I stared at him in exasperation. He cursed again. “Have you experienced any... magics?” 

“What...why?” the horror was fresh. Did he sense the outburst earlier?

“Have you, Feyre?” he searched my eyes honestly. 

“No...I don’t think so…” I trailed off and he waited, watching me. “Well the fireplace spell today went a little...well it vanished completely. But I had nothing to do with that, I was a few paces from the fireplace when it happened. I barely can manage myself as fae, I could not have done that.” 

“No. You have,” he made my worst fears come true with those three words. 

“I didn't. I swear-” I shook my head. I tried to back away but his hand on my arm kept me still. 

“Feyre,” he cut off any possible explanation with my name. “The way you were...brought back could very well have given you many magics. Today was only a glimpse of it.” 

“I do not understand, Rhysand.” 

“You have a piece of magic from each High Lord. You likely will manifest each of our magics in kind,” he said quietly, staring at the space between us. Meeting my terrified eyes, Rhysand sighed. “I had no idea this would happen to you Feyre.”

“Rhysand what is happening to me?” my brows furrowed and fear was creeping inside of me. Like a cold gust of wind that entered my shirt, my nerves seized and I found breathing difficult. 

“You’re awakening into your magic, Feyre. In the next few days or weeks, you’ll develop rapidly and then have new magics at your fingertips.” 

“How do I stop it?” 

He laughed without any warmth. “You cannot. But you can control it a little. Prevent it from getting away from your control. Your emotions will call to your magic strongly. Especially fear and anger. Thoughts with strong intention can manifest it as well. You’ll need to learn to control all your impulses.” The way he looked at me terrified me more than anything he could ever have said. Like I was dead and I didn't even know it yet. 

“I don’t know how to do that.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How could this happen? I’m just  _ me _ . I’m just a normal fae.” 

Rhysand smiled sadly at me. “Why do you insist you’re so normal when it is so blatantly obvious you’re not?” 

“Because that's all I have ever been,” I whispered. My knees lost their strength and I sunk into the pebbly beach. Rhysand crouched besides me. “I don’t know how I can do this. How can I manage...the Human Queens? The Book? The Cauldron and now my...magic? How can one person deal with all of this?” My heart beat was erratic. The pressure building in my head made all coherent thought stop. I could hardly suck in air fast enough. "I can hardly read," I whispered, my voice a mere shell. 

His hand caught my cheek and turned my head to him. His warm hand pressed against my wind-chilled cheek centered me. “I will help you. You will not be alone.” Relief was a wave of citrus and jasmine and sea salt that washed through me. “You are learning as quickly as you can. Tonight I will teach you self defense. Tomorrow, another day to improve.” I nodded, blindly accepting his words. Turning to the sky, he smiled. “Speaking of, your first instructor has just arrived.” 

I squinted into the night and one dark moving mass was hurtling itself at breakneck speeds at the beach. “What is that?” I whispered. 

Rhysand helped me to stand, “The appropriate response would be my general. But we can drop formalities and call him a giant pain in my ass.” That giant pain was growing larger by the second. I watched in awe and horror as the speed didn’t decrease in the slightest. Rhysand lifted an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. The general struck the beach with such a force that the ground tremored at my feet. Rising to his full height, he must have been several feet taller. When he straightened, I realized it was two large wings, black as night, that made him appear gigantic. His wings were at least pace above his shoulders and when he fanned them, I could have fit four paces in between. Drawing them in with a tight snap, he stood assessing me with wild abandon. He dressed similarly to Rhysand except red glimmering gems decorated his wrists, shoulders, knees and the center of his chest. 

Laughing at a joke I hadn’t heard he said, “Well you weren’t what I expected at all.” I furrowed my brows. “When Rhysand told me you fought the Middengard wyrm and won I thought you’d be...well…” he brought a hand to his hair that was windswept and had fallen out of the bun he tied it in. “Well your armor isn’t even properly secured,” he winced at the last few words. 

I flushed, looking down at the loose ties of my leather breastplate. Narrowing my eyes, I said with all the haughtiness I could muster, “I can’t say the same. You’re exactly what I would expect from Rhysand’s General and giant pain in his ass.” 

His brows lifted in barely concealed surprise and he bellowed a laugh. “No, I take that back. You’re exactly what I expected,” he smiled and I couldn’t say it didn’t make me feel warm. “My name is Cassian,” he extended a hand and I took it. To my surprise, he shook it vigorously. 

“Feyre.”

“Well met, Feyre Cursebreaker, well met,” he nodded. He then slapped his hands together. “Alright. We’re burning midnight. Better get to work if we are to see more from you in the coming battle. First things first, let’s fix this,” his hands found the ties of my leather plate. In one quick tug, all the breath had vacated my body. I gasped, sucking for air. He laughed, looking behind me to Rhysand, “Don’t worry, mother. I’ll have her back in one piece.” 

“Back? Where are we going?” 

“Well, you’re running. I’m following. And we’ll start from there,” Cassian turned to me. 

“Why would I run?” 

“Well the first part of self-defense is self-preservation and I think evasion is key,” he smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “So please run, Feyre.” The threat imminent in the depths of his eyes. I sucked in a breath, struggling with the army and ran past him down the beach. The crash of waves was deafening. I heard a growl and a loud laugh before the flap of wings and finally dead silence. Only my own loud, uneven breath and pumping heart filled my ears. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the sun was close to rising, I was laying on the rocky beach panting. Soreness had yet to settle in and I was already in pain. My back and chest felt ready to collapse from the extensive running I had to do. My shoulders barked in pain from the thousands of jabs and hits Cassian had me practice. Below my waist, I was numb. 

I cringed at when I eventually would have to stand when Rhysand reappeared to take my home. 

Cassian sat on a rock near me, staring out at sea. “I recommend ice. Lots of ice,” he said kindly. My pants clung to me from the various times I had been tossed into the water like a ragdoll. Dirt and seaweed littered my body. “I have to hand it to you, you did well.” 

“I did?” I asked quietly, staring at the sun rising in the east. He nodded solemnly in my peripheral vision. “Thanks,” I leaned back into the beach. “You sucked yourself.” 

He barked another laugh. “Yeah, I bet I did.” He swept a hand through his sweat coated hair and came to sit besides me. “You should come to the Night Court.” 

“And why is that?” 

“You’d like it,” he shrugged. 

“I’ll have to consider,” I smiled, looking up at him. From this angle, I could see that his eyes were a light brown. Warm. Though that light didn’t belittle the cunning hidden in their depths. He was a general afterall. 

“Sure you will,” he laughed. “But until tomorrow, enjoy your nap in the Spring Court.” I took that as permission to close my eyes. I was out in an instant. 


	14. Hesitate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

When the sun was near rising, I flew to the beach where Feyre and I had first landed. I touched the ground in the woods, walking out to meet them. Cassian was sitting besides Feyre, watching the sun crest the horizon. “You’ll like the city. There are good bars there. Better people and food. We’d make sure you have fun. Azriel and I know this place where you can get an entire chicken. After training, we can fly out there and have one,” Cassian spoke softly so as not to disturb Feyre who was curled up, sleeping. She looked like she had been flung through the muddiest pits of hells but she rested so peacefully, she might as well have been in a field of flowers again. “I know you’re there, Rhys,” Cassian spoke up a little. 

I stepped beyond the cover of the trees to stand besides Feyre. “I don’t think Feyre would be interested in a whole chicken.” 

Cassian smiled. “I guess we will have to see.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Another time, when she’s ready.” I leaned down and scooped her tired form into my arms. Her head lolled against my chest. Studying her flushed face, I could see the tired little circles beneath her eyes. “How was she?” I hesitated to ask. 

“Fast as all hell,” Cassian replied instantly. “I can confidently say that if Hybern wanted to race, she would lap him.” 

“But?” 

“She doesn’t want to attack. It took a little convincing to get her to make a half-way decent attempt. And then she couldn’t have made a dent in a puddle.” I frowned. “It’s not her power. She has the strength. She kicked me accidentally and managed to leave me a little winded. She just refuses to use it on me.” 

I looked down to her and her hands that were scraped and scabbed from training. “I expected as much.”

“She’ll need a little more than training if she wants to access that.” I knew he referred to the Spring Court. They weren’t fostering her, more like suffocating. 

“When she’s ready,” I nodded, finishing any arguments before they started. Cassian’s lips pursed but he nodded. Casting one look at Feyre and I, he threw himself into the skies and I winnowed back to the Spring Court, to return their lady before dawn. 


	15. Scavenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter contains gore and war topics that can be disturbing to some readers. Please read with discretion. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

The smell of rot was pervasive under the heat from the sun. The grass field had turned into a mud pit of internal organs, feces, blood and vomit. And of course, urine. A person loses control over their muscles when they die. The muscles relax and a corpse is suddenly defecating. Mixing this with the putrid smell their corpses gave off and an accurate description of a battlefield is made. 

Surviving a battle is difficult enough. But following through when its over and the carnage needs to be picked through is when the horror sets in. The victors no longer cheer. No glory is felt. Nothing remains but the squelching of mud underfoot. Trudging through a field where we almost died. 

Though picking through carnage after battle was a game. Everybody I turned over, I tried to make my eyes unseeing. Only focus on their Court and identifiers before moving them with the remaining dead to be burned. But I never could tear my eyes away from their faces. It was the sick part of me that wanted to know that the dead was not one of my own. Because when they weren’t my own men, I felt that spark of relief. Which felt even worse that I could value one man’s life over the next but there was no helping my favoritism. 

With every fiber of my being, I wanted my court to come away from this. I wanted my people free and alive. Dread kept me moving that I would return home alone. The thought of looking for Feyre among this field kept me awake at night. My nightmares consisted of me searching tirelessly, turning over faceless corpses until I laid eyes on the one that was undeniably my mate. I'd know her hair color hair anywhere. The shape of her. Her face frozen in fear that I had not reached her quick enough. 

But today was not that day. Looking across the field of bodies, Cassian nodded. Azriel was flying above, scouting for any remaining Hybern soldiers. We had been lucky today. Hybern had taken fleets of ships up the Andros river and was playing the game of pillage and flee. A cat and mouse game where he destroys the land and runs before our armies even catch wind. It left us with more refugees and more bodies. Though today, we had spotted a troop. A few ships had docked and Hybern’s men camped nearby. In the early morning, we snuck into their camp where the only sound was the gentle lapping of the water and the dying crackles of their fires. In one fell sweep, we had murdered each sleeping bundle with only three soldiers reporting injuries. 

If I was asked whether I would kill a sleeping male to save my own people, I would have replied  _ without a doubt.  _ I couldn’t have pity or mercy during these fights. I barely could see Hybern’s army as fae. Not with the body count I had seen. 

And this camp was no different. Boarding their ships, we intended to take their armor and food before setting fire to the ship. We couldn’t use them to invade their ranks anyway. Each ship had a magic bond to the capitan. If the captain died, the ship would be sunk regardless of whether Hybern still had soldiers on it or not. 

Below deck were several Summer Court citizens. Chained and crammed into cages. The smell of urine was near blinding, my eyes watered. They all looked up in horror as we descended the ladder into what had been their hell. We had Summer Court soldiers with us for this part. No person wants to see unfamiliar banners after what these people experienced. Especially not Night Court banners either. 

Varian, Prince of Adriata, was easily recognizable to his own people. Since Adriata was rubble, some would say that he was a leader without anyone to lead. They would be wrong if they ever saw Varian with his own subjects. Once laying eyes on the Prince, they reached through the bars towards him. 

Varian stepped forward in a sea blue vest that tucked into his green churidar. He was, by far, the brightest being within this ship. “We’ve come to release you. Once we’ve opened the cage, you will need to be cleaned and healed. High Lord Rhysand’s army will bring you to our camps for this.” Some flicked their eyes to mine but quickly avoided them after. “Step back from the door,” he ordered.

With a blade made of water, he cut through their cage without another thought. The door fell and slammed on the wooden bottom of the ship, echoing in the compartment. Easing their way out, I could see the extent of their damages. Ears, fingers and toes removed. Some had full limbs missing. Multiple cuts looking to be infected. Eyes swollen red and yellow from dehydration. Covered in a thick layer of filth so that all that poked out were their wide eyes. 

“Who needs to be carried and who can walk?” Varian asked. They organized themselves so that two men, both missing a foot, were visible. Varian waved forward his soldiers and they picked up the men, carrying them above deck. The rest led the way out of the ship, down the gangplank and onto the earth. 

At the first sight of the carnage left by the river, a woman stepped forward and spat. The others followed suit, spitting and cursing at the dead. After, they were quiet. They went where we asked without complaint. Even with wounds that looked freshly made, still bleeding, they just sat and waited for orders. I ground my teeth. 

To conserve magic, High Lord Tarquin and I had agreed that the Illyrians could carry people back to the camps. Winnowing wasted magic when we could be using it elsewhere when on the front lines. When they returned to the camp, the Spring Court would see to their bathing and healing before finding a task they could complete. The refugees we found had not been soldiers. Hybern was not sparing soldiers. He only wanted the defenseless. 

Cassian handpicked Illyrian warriors that were best suited to carrying the imprisoned Summer Court people. We needed soldiers who understood where they were really needed wasn’t always the battlefield. Though Lord Devlon retained the right to pull his soldiers back to his war-group whenever he wished.

I watched as an Illyrian picked up one of the men without feet, attempting to find a way to cradle without aggravating the wound. When the man had relaxed as much as he could, the soldier shot into the sky and headed west for camp.

“That would make eight more refugees,” Mor said from behind me. She was covered in grime. Blonde hair spattered in blood after a day picking through the bodies. “Seventy four Hyberian soldiers dead. We also found a crate of faebane. Plenty of food. No Cauldron. No Book of Breathings.”

I turned to her, curious. “I didn’t expect to find the Cauldron on a simple ship but...how is Hybern communicating with his army? Winnowing? They are acting like one organized unit. They each know where to strike. Where to retreat and when. We were lucky these soldiers were in our way when we changed the direction our patrols were going,” I paused to wash my hands in the Andros. “Everything Amren reports on the Cauldron is just as vague as what we already knew.” 

Mor looked out to the river. “We’ll never know until we get our hands on the Cauldron.”

“We’re leagues from that,” I sighed. Rising to my feet, we walked in the direction of camp, entering the thick jungle. If anyone thought it was odd we weren’t winnowing right away, they didn’t mention it. “We can’t get the Book of Breathings until we make headway and Hybern has been pushing us back for two straight days. This is the first real victory we made and it was on fae still sleeping,” aggravation seeped into my words. 

“We won’t win this in a day, Rhysand. I’ve only been here for two weeks. The army for a week.” 

“It’s more than that. It’s that I haven’t seen the Cauldron once.” 

Mor frowned. “You want him to use it?” 

“No. But why hasn’t he? Why does he send us ships of men to buffer us back instead of taking that Cauldron and annihilating the opposition?” I asked, raising a hand to my chin. “You utilize advantages when you have them. The Cauldron is fully assembled. Why doesn’t he use it yet?” 

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to control it yet. Wield it. It’s not exactly like a manual was made to go along with it,” she shrugged. Pressing her hand to my chest, she stopped all forward movement. Planting hands on her waist, she launched her attack. “What is bothering you?”

“Are you not bothered by what you’re seeing?” I pointed a finger in the direction of Hybern’s ships. 

Mor knew me too well. She heard the defensive tone I took. “Of course I am. What  _ else  _ is bothering you?” 

“I don’t know what I am going to do for the next three weeks,” I breathed out. 

“Three weeks?”

“I only bargained with Feyre for a week out of every month.”

Understanding lit her eyes and she smiled softly, placing a hand on my shoulder regardless of the grime. “You trust her to take care of herself. Did she survive Under the Mountain or not?” 

“I was there with her. Now she’s alone.” 

** “If she can make allies while Under the Mountain then she can definitely make a few in the Spring Court. They aren’t  _ that  _ treacherous.” And with that, we continued walking back to camp.  **


	16. Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

After the days of brutal training, I had to adjust quickly to my newly sore body. I slept late into the morning, luckily I was in a position to do so unquestioned. When Alis came in, I asked her to leave me to bathe and then I would run to the bath to scrub at the grime on my skin. I took a roughspun cloth, coated it in soap and then scraped at my skin until it was red. I would then stand naked in my bathing room and begin to clean my clothes I used for training. I poured oil after oil onto them to make the stench more bearable but they remained musty anyway. If Cassian and Rhysand minded, they didn’t say it so I reasoned it must not be so terrible. 

That left the bruises for evidence, which were accidental, but still deeply purple and tender to the touch. Luckily they were in places I could easily hide. By the end of the day they would be gone and fully healed but it left me inconvenienced for the morning when I’d dress. I would, without fail, always have to call Alis back to lace me into a dress after a frustrating attempt at doing so myself. Though I had to ask her not to lace me so tight. Everything ached and I didn’t need a dress that made it worse. 

My hair was so long it caught dirt like a trap. I had asked Alis to cut it and she promptly refused all else but a trim. She claimed my hair was too beautiful to cut away. Instead, we compromised by braiding my hair for the day and the night so at least it was away from my face.

For the first time since returning home, I was thankful I wasn’t required to do physically demanding jobs. My feet would have fallen off after the first night of training were that the case. Instead, I rose and stowed away in the library to read and write. I asked for paper and began to write an outline. Then each night I’d tuck away the stack I had newly created, stuff it into the book Rhysand made me and stash it away in my nightstand. 

Earlier and earlier, I would dismiss Alis claiming exhaustion and slip into bed as she left me for the night. Then I’d hop out and rapidly change into my increasingly dingy training clothes. Though I found I couldn’t bring myself to care that the clothes weren’t clean or even dry from the earlier morning’s wash. I’d slip on the damp clothes and lace up my leather pieces of armor until Cassian no longer had to adjust it for me. 

And like this, a new routine was built for me. By day, I’d study my letters and by night I was throwing punches and running entire coastlines. It left me sore and exhausted but as I sat down to breakfast, I felt satisfaction creeping warmly into my belly. 

Lucien sat across from me, sipping tea casually. Once we realized dining in the great hall was excessive without Tamlin here, we moved outside onto a patio. I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders to ‘ward away the chill’ but I really asked for it so no one peaked the bruise at the nape of my neck. My dress should have covered it but I worried. Cassian’s elbow had accidentally caught my back when he tossed me aside after a particularly lazy attack. Thinking about training with Cassian tonight brought a small smile to my lips. It was grueling and difficult but Cassian was encouraging and I could exist around him without outside worries. 

“I received a letter today,” he started. 

“Oh?” a small smile formed. “And this is an important letter, I take it?” 

“Yes because it’s a distinctly  _ human  _ letter,” he teased. My eyes flew wide and I tore around the table, snatching the letter from his extended hand. My eyes were flying over the handwriting that I couldn’t even verify if it was Nesta’s. I just trusted that Lucien would never hand me a stranger’s mail. Ripping into the letter, I took a seat and unfolded it. I squinted over the letters, piecing them together slowly and then the words followed by the sentences. “What does it say?” 

“One moment, it takes me a while,” I replied. 

Lucien’s eyes flashed. “You can’t read?” 

I set down the letter, looking at Lucien. “No. I was never taught,” I ground out. 

“That is what you’ve been doing in the library all day.” 

I nodded. 

“But...the second trial…” he started and dread crept in. “It was a riddle. You solved it.” 

“I didn’t, actually.”

“You guessed?” he exclaimed. “I thought you knew the answer.” 

I shook my head violently. “I didn’t guess. Rhysand gave me the answer,” once the words were out, I couldn’t pull them back. And I had to wince from my lack of formality with Rhysand. That wasn’t accepted in a court where the people believed the name summoned him like a curse.

“The High Lord of the Night Court?” Lucien said in disbelief. I nodded in confirmation. He leaned back in his chair, turning over the idea. “The High Lord of the Night Court saved my life.” 

“He saved mine as well,” I whispered. Lucien glanced to me. “When Amarantha snapped my neck. He asked all the High Lords to give me a piece of their magic to revive me.” 

Lucien watched me, shock written all over. “He did. He saved us both.” We sat for the moment with our thoughts. Finally, Lucien asked me what the letter said. 

“Nesta says the food should arrive in a week’s time. She asked when she could expect the soldiers to arrive. She also asked how we are moving the food.” 

Lucien straightened. “I’ll assign them and bring them to her home by tomorrow...I don’t know what to do about moving the food. We need people to bring the food, catalog it and then deliver it to the army. We don’t have soldiers to spare anymore. We would leave the manor undefended.”

“Then we ask for help,” I replied easily. 

“From who?” 

“The refugees. Many of them don’t have a home and by winter they’ll starve. We can house them here and feed them some of the food we transport.” 

Lucien’s eyes widened. “House them here? In the manor?” 

“What other choice do we have?” 

Thinking it over, he nodded his head slowly and I knew he came up empty. “It makes the most sense, I agree. I just never would have thought of it.”

“I’ll ask them today, see if any would be willing.”

“Take Bron and Hart with you,” Lucien asked. 

I gave him a flat look. “I don’t think Bron and Hart would likely leave me to run off alone.”

Another companionable silence ensued. “Have you had any more...brushes with magic?” Lucien asked quietly, glancing around. 

I squinted at him through the morning sun’s glare. “No...I don’t think so at least,” I replied honestly. Sending Alis away so I could sneak around felt awful but having to avoid lying to Lucien was by far worse. The two of them were my friends and now I had to withhold this from them. But after hearing the general regard to Rhysand and I’s bargain, I knew saying it aloud would mean they would possibly want to take it away. Or tell Tamlin about it.

I couldn’t handle the duplicity of my feelings on the matter. I loved Tamlin and yet I couldn’t call Rhysand, or Cassian, my enemy. I was accomplishing tasks that mattered and would help to win this war. I was beginning to see myself as someone who could contribute. I wanted Tamlin to see this too without having that same look other fae gave me at the sight of my bargain. 

“That’s good. Your control over them must be improving,” he smiled warmly. “When you actually awaken, we will be able to really train you.” 

“Where do you think these powers came from?” I asked, thinking back to what Rhysand told me. 

Lucien looked back to me and cleared his throat, “Well, you were Made not born. But I think from the other High Lords when they revived you.” He winced when he said this. I pressed a hand to the place on my neck where the break had happened. His eyes followed the motion. “I don’t know what this means for the High Lords though.” 

“How does this concern the High Lords?” My squint turned to a glare. 

He didn’t miss my expression when he said, “We won’t know until you awaken really. But I suspect you have a piece of their power, Feyre. All seven High Lords. I think they would be very interested to know what happened to their magic.” 

“Well they can’t possibly think of taking it back,” I snapped. 

Lucien’s eyes widened. “No...no not at all,” he shook his head. “Feyre, your role in our freedom from Amarantha is...well it’s unquestioned. It’s just unthinkable. But I think they would want to know where all the considerable power is going.” 

“Where I’m going?” I echoed. 

“Which High Lord you...marry…”

“I’m betrothed to Tamlin,” I stated. Uncomfortable feelings made themselves known when I spoke. I supressed them for later. 

“I know but it hasn’t been uncommon for powerful alliances to be made regardless of feelings on the matter,” he said uncomfortably. 

“They would try to take me from him?” I said, finding it hard to speak. My fears asked if that was what Rhysand was trying to do but I silenced those quickly. I wouldn’t think of that. I couldn’t think that this had been his end goal all along. With my fears, I found a surprising feeling that I was scared to lose the tentative relationship I had with him. 

“No, that would be an act of war and I don’t think anyone desires another fight,” Lucien shook his head. “But they might try to suggest alliances...matches...when your powers come in,” he warned. When he saw the vacancy in my eyes, he softened. He placed his hand over mine. “Feyre, no one is going to hurt you. I won’t let them.” 

I rose from the table, trying to keep my hands steady. “I should go speak with the Summer Court people to see if they want to help.” Lucien’s sad look was enough to make me want to cry. "We'll need all the help we can get afterall." 

“Feyre…” he said. 

“No it’s alright, Lucien. I just need a moment,” I said.

He came around the table. Pausing a moment before opening his arms and enfolding me within them. The first thing I noticed was how warm he was. The cinnamon and vanilla smell. He rubbed my back soothingly. I hadn't been hugged in a long while. Tamlin held me briefly after our last tumble in bed but the platonic comfort Lucien freely gave was dearly missed. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be here with you.” 

“Promise?” I whispered.

“I promise,” he smiled. 


	17. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Please forgive the slow burn. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

I was up before dawn the following morning. Normally, I could close my eyes and sleep for a few more moments and then start the day. But I was so nervous that I accepted I’d get no more sleep and rose from my bed. 

My favorite aspect of being the least favored son of a High Lord was that I went largely unnoticed during my day. I came and went from places without anyone taking the time to interrupt my day. Servants didn’t fuss when I requested anything. I could focus on my work and have time left over for focusing on my own interests. I could visit with the towns as I pleased and they accepted my presence like I had been born one of them. When I had met Jesminda, the other fae thought it romantic at first instead of tragic since my birth order left me with more leeway. My brothers rarely paid attention to me up until my own magic awoke and then I became the least favored son of a High Lord and most despised brother of the future High Lord. 

Coming to the Spring Court completely disrupted the life I had known. The servants fussed over the right hand of their High Lord. When I entered rooms, people bowed and gave thought to my opinions. If I left, usually one or two would follow after to see if they could get a private audience with me. Mostly to see if they could use me to whisper in Tamlin’s ear. If Tamlin was present, he’d dismiss lords and their squires from court if he saw them pestering me. He assigned the servant I still have today, Mr. Forster, to see to my chambers and requests who lacked any inclination to ingratiate himself to me. Tamlin gave me the peace that had been ripped away from me the moment I lost Jesminda. 

He gave me the time to heal after losing her. 

Then he named me Emissary and my home in the Spring Court was fixed. Now, I could pretend I never was at the Autumn Court. I didn’t miss the Days of Harvest festival when hot cider and pumpkin cakes were fresh in the kitchens. The betrayal from the people after Jesminda was murdered no longer lingered over me wherever I went. I learned to not look for my mother watching over me when I trained. 

The memories I had of my brothers when we weren’t forced into competing were the hardest to forget. I had to force those away from my mind like nightmares. It was painful to reconcile the small moments of peace I had with them and how they had murdered Jesminda before my eyes. I wanted to scream myself hoarse at their betrayal but it felt empty. I couldn’t stop the thoughts nagging me that if my father hadn’t been the one to give the order, Jesminda and I would have been married by now. Maybe mated. 

I shook myself from that train of thought. These memories had recently drug themselves from the layers of muck I had buried them in. 

My rooms were down the hall from Feyre and Tamlins and so as of habit, I stopped by Bron and Hart to ask if there were any disturbances in the night. “No outbursts, my Lord,” Bron shook his head. “She sleeps peacefully.” 

In the last week, Feyre’s nightmares seemed to have disappeared entirely. She no longer cried out in her sleep. She went to bed early and rose late and seemed all the better for it. She even ate more though she largely stayed to the fruit platters. I wanted to be relieved for my friend but she was so skittish that I knew better than to think all of her troubles had passed. 

I went down the hall, taking the marble staircase into the main foyer. Long halls extended in either direction. The Great Hall and Library with doors attached to the foyer. Skirting around the staircase, I took the hidden stairs to the servants quarters in the basement of the manor. The kitchen had already been awake, the smell of freshly made bread permeating the air. I tore off a piece of a loaf and brought the rest out to the stables. 

The men I had picked to guard the Archeron home were those I had trained myself. I would have sent Bron and Hart as well but they were sworn to Feyre’s guard. Instead, I faced five men in the stables who were saddled with their packs and ready to depart. I handed the rest of the loaf to Aaron on my left and let them tear pieces off, handing to each other. 

“I don’t want to wait any longer. Let’s revisit the critical rules one last time,” I urged, chewing on the soft bread. The one aspect I couldn’t seem to get over was that the Spring Court  _ always  _ put dried fruit in their bread. It was either baked in or layered on top. 

“No entering the estate without direct permission from either Lady,” Aaron began. Feyre had informed me that Nesta would not allow the fae to cohabitate while Elain remained in the estate. I told Feyre that was an obvious fact. Elain was like an injured dove among her sisters. They protected her above all else. 

“Under no circumstances can the other humans know we exist,” Oliver added. The men knew this applied to the townsfolk  _ and  _ Elain’s betrothed. The thought of this man was a source of curiosity for me and also ire. The fire that lived in my veins heated at the idea of this hateful man being allowed within the Archeron’s home. 

“At the lady’s direction, we will move the supplies to the secure location agreed upon for further transfer,” Sherwood spoke next. The secure location was nothing more than a small cave at the border of the Spring Court and Human Realms. I had wanted to post an additional guard but Feyre insisted that the protection of supplies due for routine pick up would be a waste. 

“If either Lady is to become ill or injured due to our negligence, we will be delivered to the war front for the High Lord’s punishment.” Shepard, by far the youngest of the group by a century, added in his youthful and high voice. He had curly blonde hair and a smattering of freckles. Young and small but the quickest and best with a bow. 

I had assigned Lord Melton’s second son, Farrel, as their leader when Feyre or I were absent. “Farrel, have you assigned the positions I asked?” Feyre had come to me after her meeting with the Summer Court citizens, tired to the bone, and sat with me. She refused to leave until we had contingency plans for every emergency. 

“Shepard will act as our messenger should we need to send urgent notice. Aaron will post all other notices with Juniper,” Aaron settled a hand on the cage perched precariously on his horse's rear. It was covered with a heavy red cloth but inside was Juniper, his red tailed hawk trained for sending messages. “Should the manor be attacked, Aaron will deliver the lady’s to the Spring Court. Oliver and Sherwood, if allowed by events, should return to the supplies should any be left behind.” 

With that, I climbed onto my own horse and we set out towards the Human Realm for the second time in a week. Juniper squawked noisily when our horses began to move. We took a different route than last time, skirting around to prevent our trails from being noticed. 

I wanted to stay at the manor myself but my duty to Feyre under Tamlin’s order was paramount. I was left to protect her if Bron and Hart could not. The Spring Court manor was left to me to run but all my logic told me to leave it to Feyre and focus on delivering the supplies safely to the front. Though Nesta had done her best to make me feel unwelcome, I only wanted to remain more so. The way she angled herself towards me when I neared Elain told me she would protect the girl with her life. I owed it to Nesta to ensure Elain came to no harm now and I’d prove it to her as well. 

Though I wanted to tell Nesta if she was so intent on protecting her sister then maybe she should start with Elain’s betrothed. 

My men set up camp by the roots of a fallen tree. It shielded the town from the blaze of the fire and their tents as well. We set for the manor and approached the north facing side, where the gardens were. Perched on the edge of the woods, we waited to see if any servants were about.

Elain dismissed the servants as promised. Though she seemed not at all inclined to care. In the heat of the early sun, she knelt in the garden and pulled weeds. She knelt on a folded blanket in the grass, leaning over a small portion of her garden. The dirt stained her apron, gloves and pieces of her exposed dress. She wore another pink dress I could only describe as poofy. Her face was hidden by a large woven sun hat, fixed in place by a blue ribbon that tied under her chin. Her hair glimmered like honey in the sunlight, untied and down her back. I wasn’t sure if the garden brought the smell of flowers or if it was her. I’d like to believe it was her scent. 

And suddenly, I couldn’t remember why I thought Tamlin falling in love with a human was silly. 

Farrel cleared his throat. “My lord, shall we approach?” 

Though my face never betrayed a single thought, I spent the moment internally reorganizing my thoughts. “Stay hidden until I call you forward.” I stepped into the sunlight, skirting around the gazebo and the arbor to stand within a few paces of where Elain knelt. I thought she’d look up, feeling that someone was watching her but she remained blissfully unaware. I could hear her humming to herself. Not meaning to startle, I cleared my throat. “My lady?”

Her head snapped up and she stared at me with those large doe-eyes. With her hat out of the way, I could see she had several smudges of dirt on her rosy cheeks. “Oh. Hello,” she rose up, patting her gloves on her apron. “Hello Lucien.”

I bowed, feeling pleased she recalled my name. “I am here to deliver my men for...er...inspection.” 

“I’ll get Nesta then,” Elain said softly. I straightened, watching her watch me. She made no motion to turn around. 

It was a moment too late as Nesta made her presence known with the cool echo of her voice. “I thought Feyre would send word when you would appear.” 

“Lady Feyre did not want to delay sending you guards. Unfortunately, we would arrive sooner than a letter,” I replied easily. Feyre told me that Nesta would be difficult. I hoped my men understood. 

“Very well,” Nesta replied, lips thinned. She must have rushed from the house when she realized we were here. She still clutched a book in her hand. A part of me wondered how Feyre didn’t know how to read yet Nesta did. 

I turned back to the woods, waving my men forward. Farrel led the men from the shadows and I immediately winced.  _ An entirely male regiment to guard these two women who have been fed every fae horror story in the world.  _ I cringed when I saw Nesta’s lips. “You’ve no females in your armies?” 

Farrel coughed uncomfortably. Elain looked pale. Nesta came to stand besides Elain, assessing each of the men with an uncomfortably long stare. “It’s uncommon.” A political answer. The Spring Court, like the Autumn Court, still had older traditions. The High fae were given more freedom and tolerances for their behavior but the lesser fae still abided by the traditions rather fervently. The females weren’t supposed to be in the army. 

I was partly surprised that she asked. The Human Realm followed the same traditions too. “The earliest shipment of ground meal will arrive in three days. I do not want any of you to enter the manor.” 

“Where will they sleep?” Elain quirked an eyebrow. I realized she directed the question to Nesta, pausing the answer on my lips. 

“Wherever they will,” Nesta replied easily. If my men kept coughing every time Nesta bared her teeth, she’d think the fae were sickly people. “Which one of you should I address?” 

Farrel stepped forward, just barely wincing. “I am Farrel, my lady.” 

Nesta didn’t reply. She nodded her head. “Do they know of Elain’s betrothed?” I nodded.  _ How could we forget this one complication that threatened this entire operation?  _ Nesta ignored this and addressed the group, “Elain is betrothed to a man who isn’t known for his kind disposition to fae.” Elain stared at her gloves. “He’ll be visiting with us today. I think it best if you all make yourself scarce.” 

“Graysen is a kind man,” Elain said quietly. 

“He is,” Nesta smiled softly at Elain, smoothing a curl on Elain’s back. A tenderness directed solely at Elain. With that, Nesta dismissed us. My men eagerly took that as an escape and faded into the woods. “I would ask something of you,” Nesta stated. 

“Should we sit for tea?” Elain asked. I thought of how I had refused this offer last time. 

“Of course,” I accepted just as Nesta replied, “Not necessary.” Nesta glared at me, Elain uncomfortable in between us. 

“It’s alright, I can get the tea,” Elain skirted around her sister and I was secretly pleased Elain sided with me. But I knew it had little to do with me and everything to do with her upbringing and manners as a hostess. 

Nesta stared at me before walking past me to the gazebo to take our tea. I sat with Nesta’s uncomfortable stare for as long as it took Elain to prepare the hot water and walk a tray out to us. Elain quickly poured us all hot tea. “Do you take milk or sugar?” Elain asked quietly, handing Nesta plain tea. 

“Milk thank you,” I said, my eyes fixed on Nesta’s. She watched as I took the proffered cup from Elain and as I brought it to my lips. When Elain served herself a cup of tea, I could see the displeasure that Elain was staying. Elain had dumped mounds of sugar into her teacup before she deemed it acceptable, sitting comfortably perched on the edge of her chair like a bird. 

“I want you to deliver a letter to Feyre,” Nesta said when we had all taken a sip. A million questions echoed in my mind.  _ They didn’t know Feyre couldn’t read. Or Feyre told them she taught herself _ . Though gauging how taut their relationship seemed, I thought this highly unlikely.  _ How could they not know their youngest was illiterate? _ Reaching a hand into the book on her lap, she removed the letter that had served as a bookmark. She placed it on the table. 

“I promise it will reach Feyre safely,” I slipped the letter into the pocket on the inside of my jerkin. Nesta nodded curtly. “The soldiers I leave you with were personally trained. They’ll not fail you.” I sipped my tea and waited for one of them to say something. A piece of me wanted to prolong this meeting. I wanted to sort out these mysterious sisters like a puzzle. I wanted to know their history and why they seemed like sculptures to me: not entirely real. 

The distant sound of rocks grating on another caught my ear. A rumbling in the distance. Hooves clopping. I heard one of my soldiers stepping towards me but I raised my hand. Elain started at the sudden movement. I dipped my head in apology, rising from my seat. “I believe your betrothed is going to arrive. I take my leave of you both.” Elain was staring at me like I spoke a different language. She opened her mouth but ended up not saying anything. I waited an extra moment before bowing and making my way to where my horse was tied in the woods. 

The ride back to the Spring Court Manor was filled by me guessing whatever Elain could possibly have to say to me. 


	18. Avow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

“Focus on where you are aiming your knife, Feyre,” Cassian instructed. “You are looking at where my hands are but you’ve just attacked. You have me defending myself. Once that happens you need to act quick before I launch my own attack.” Another  _ gift  _ had appeared today, this time, luckily within the confines of my bedroom and away from where anyone else could have seen. It was a beautiful blade that was in total just as long as my own hand. It was perhaps an eighth of what Cassian carried along his spine and that was a generous estimate. 

I had asked why they gifted me such a tiny blade and Rhysand had laughed from where he was perched on a fallen tree. “I didn’t know they’d let you stroll around the Spring Court with your own sword. If that’s the case, why haven’t you shown me your blade?” he quipped. He was awfully chipper for someone who was getting maybe an hour of sleep every night. 

“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Cassian waggled his eyebrows suggestively. I blushed despite my glare. 

“I wasn’t aware I needed a knife when I have you too idiots to scare everyone away,” I hissed, taking the knife from Cassian’s hand. “Now show me where I can stab you.” Rhysand howled.

“No. Why don’t you come down here and be her target dummy? At least if she stabs you, you’ll heal faster,” Cassian pointed his finger at Rhysand. Rhysand considered his general for a moment before rising and taking Cassian’s position across from me. 

“You’ll want to aim the knife somewhere vital. Anywhere else and you’ll just make your opponent-” 

“Mad?” I asked. 

Rhysand raised his brows, unimpressed. But a playful smirk on his lips was my reward. Increasingly, I noticed the small reactions my jokes could raise from him. I was happy I could make someone happy. “No. You’ll corner them. An opponent cornered is desperate and will attack much more viciously. They’ve nothing to lose so they will ensure they at the very least take you down with them.” The somber change sobered me and I focused on my grip of the handle.

It was difficult to be firm in my jabs when I was shaking. This time we had visited the Winter Court. Finding a secluded section of woods, we practiced between snow-covered pine trees. I thought he’d give me a warning or provide a cloak but he insisted that I train without one. He said that no one can be prepared for the worst situation but I might as well try and fortify myself against all odds. I knew if I pushed him, he would relent and get me a cloak. But I knew that wouldn’t do me any favors so I accepted the discomfort. And I found when I looked in his eyes a sense of pride. Admiration. 

The warmth from this realization was enough to sustain me. 

He pressed a hand to his rib cage, pointing as he explained. “Fourth and fifth rib, closest to the heart. But there is all this bone here.” I was squinting at his shirt but the details were lost. It was night and he wore another black doublet with steel armor. He paused, tugged at the laces of his armor and tossed his breastplate to the ground. Grabbing my free hand, he pressed it against his ribcage. I was glad for the limited moonlight since it hid the blush that must have extended to my neck by now. “All bone here,” he said, moving my hands along his ribs to where his sternum is. “If you hit bone, your wrist will pay for it and your enemy will win. So you hit where it’s fleshy and guaranteed to bleed fast.” His eyes were trained on my face. Focusing intently on every squint of my eyes, furrow of my brows. 

“Where?” I asked, a little breathless. 

He raised my hand to his neck. “Any artery. The jugular is a good option but usually your opponent knows to guard it well.” 

“What’s the alternative?”  _ Did I want to know?  _

Panic seized me and I checked my mental walls but they were up. His amused face was there for a different reason. “I’m glad you asked.” He released my hand and lowered his to his inner thigh, without breaking eye contact. “The femoral artery of the thigh will kill a male of average magic. Fae aren’t so different from humans after all,” he said. 

“Stabbing someone’s neck seems easier than their thigh,” I said, trying not to imagine his thighs as he demonstrated where the femoral artery is. 

“It does, doesn’t it? It’s within reach and a nice target,” Rhysand nodded. “But you’re not fighting in an open field with that knife. You’re fighting in close quarters where soldiers don’t expect the lady of the manor to have a knife much less defend herself,” as he talked, he walked closer to me. The snow crunching beneath every step as he backed me into a tree. My heart was pumping in my ears. I’m sure both Rhysand and Cassian could hear it spike. 

“It won’t be about what you can easily reach. It will be about what they can defend on instinct. Aim for their thighs and they won’t think to guard them. By then it will be too late. Their reaction was too slow.” With my back pressed to the tree and Rhysand blocking any exit, I was trapped. It clicked then. Dropping to stab his thigh gave me an attack combined with an escape route. Without hesitation, I dropped and ducked to my side. 

I wanted to feel proud of learning the move but all I could feel was my throat closing. Rhysand was speaking and I was nodding my head, trying to keep up. But my blood roared in my ears. The attor was taking punches at me. Amarantha’s soldiers had me alone and backed into a corner. Raising my hands in defense was another chance that Amarantha would use it against him. Each time I had been defenseless and could only then I realize how weak I truly was. Up until then, I had thought myself competent enough with a bow to protect myself in all situations.  _ Competent?  _ I wanted to laugh. The fae in that court knew it then and I knew it now. I wasn’t strong. I was delusional.

Everything was stripped from me then. I lost the confidence in myself that I would be enough to protect myself. I lost the blind faith in Tamlin that he would always be there to protect me. I lost my naive innocence that went with believing the world had good people in it. I lost my life. I had been stolen from so grievously that all my hurt quickly hardened into anger. 

I wanted it back.

“Feyre?” Rhysand’s hand crested my shoulder. 

I turned quickly. My feet were stuck in place and I fell, my ankle twisting painfully. Something cracked and finally my feet were released and I stumbled into the snow drifts behind me. I looked to my feet seeing a thick layer of ice surrounding my boots. The spot where I had been standing had broken ice as well showing that I’d frozen myself in place. 

I looked up to Rhysand and then to Cassian, standing a few paces back. They both looked on in surprise. “Feyre? Are you alright?” He took a step towards me. “Where did you go?” 

I clasped together my hands, rubbing them so the ice flaked off. “Does it matter? We’re fighting a war,” I gave a sharp laugh. “Actually,  _ you’re  _ fighting a war.  _ I’m  _ playing house.” The words rolled off my bitter tongue but I couldn’t feel any shame over them. I wished Tamlin were present so I could be saying these things to him but I feared that my coward heart wouldn’t let me.

“The pain of others doesn’t take away from yours,” Rhysand said. He looked back to Cassian, exchanging silent words before Cassian reluctantly took to the skies. “You don’t want to see war, Feyre.” He walked towards me, kneeling in the snow where I had fallen. “So where did you go before?”

I swallowed hard. “Under the Mountain. When the attor beat me when I first was captured,” the tears were forcing themselves from my eyes. A stark contrast between the heat inside and the ice that covered me. Looking at Rhysand I knew he recalled what I spoke of. Their eyes never left mine and from their reassurances, I drew back some bravery into myself, “I don’t want to be weak like that again.” 

Rhysand smiled at me though his eyes remained sad. “You will be stronger but you won’t ever be untouchable. Your heart is human after all.” I remembered the same words he spoke to me Under the Mountain.  _ Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those that don’t feel anything at all.  _

“My magic though,” I gasped. “With each passing day it’s more like a target painted right on my back.” Rhysand furrowed his brows. Too exhausted to blush, I said flatly, “Lucien told me my magic would make me of interest to each Court...for arrangements.” I muttered the word  _ arrangements _ , barely bringing myself to utter the words. When I looked into Rhysand’s eyes, an unending rage cold as ice stopped my heart. They were unseeing. Looking through me like I wasn't present. Rhysand staring into whatever monster he saw, alone. 

I squeezed his shoulder with my numb hand when I found I was unable to watch him experience that pain. His eyes flickered back to life, fixating on me. When he took me in, I knew he saw every detail. He knew me in a single glance. “When your magic awakens, if you wish it, we will train you to control it. To hone it like it’s an extension of yourself. And if you don’t want to use it that’s up to you. Our bargain ends when you fulfill your role as Ambassador to the Human Realms.” 

I bit my bottom lip. Rhysand’s eyes glued to the motion. “I would like that.”

He gave me a rare, brave smile before rising on his heels. I took his proffered hand and when I was only a few inches away he held me close to him. “Whatever decision you make, Feyre, I will honor it,” he said honestly. I suddenly felt cold knowing he would leave me to whatever fate I chose. His hand tightened on mine, not painfully, as he spoke. “But I will not allow those to force your hand.” 

“Why?” my eyes beseeching him. 

He looked at the space between us. “Because I believe that you’re a good person and you deserve your happiness. And I’ll fight to make sure you get it.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was awake when Rhysand returned me to the Spring Court this time. He casually filled the air with conversation that I took comfort in listening to. We agreed that I’d have the letter for the next month as it was the last night of our bargain. 

When he stepped away from me, I thought about asking him to come again regardless of the bargain. But I took in his tired eyes and slumped shoulders and bid him good night instead. 

I found no sleep that morning. The night’s revelations were too much for me to safely tuck away until after I had slept. Instead, I rose early and dressed to visit the Summer Court refugees down the hall. 

The Spring Court Manor was a large building. To my standards, it was extravagantly so. But I couldn’t have appreciated it more so than I did then. The two halls that extended to the east and west were filled with bedrooms and bathrooms I had the servants open for the refugees to fill. The hall was no longer quiet at all hours but noisy during the day that quieted into a soft hum during the night. 

Though a couple hundred refugees had been welcomed into the court, we only received shy of a hundred volunteers when we asked for help. And much to my surprise, only a handful had to share lodgings. Families were given their own rooms which didn't have much space at all. 

At the moment, anyone who could sew was making spare clothing but most were just getting settled. Food supplies wouldn’t arrive, according to Lucien’s last letter from Nesta, for another day or two. I asked the kitchen to cut meals to breakfast and dinner, portioning food so everyone received a healthy amount. Alis had served me my normal breakfast that morning and I had put down my fork, rising to my feet. 

“My lady?”

“Alis, lead the way to the kitchens,” I said in a voice that brooked no rebuttals. She nodded and opened the door for me to follow. Bron and Hart followed a pace behind with questions I couldn’t answer just yet. 

I understood the confusion the kitchen would face. Trying to serve everyone equally but also make allowances for me as their future lady was a difficult and fragile line to walk. Alis immediately stepped to the side when we entered the kitchen that bustled with life.”My lady, are you sure-” Bron asked but I turned to face him, cutting him off. 

“I’m not lingering to bake a cake. I only need to clarify something,” I said quietly. Bron smiled shyly before stepping back to where Alis and Hart stood. Their eyes on me urged me forward. The kitchen, by then, had noticed their lady’s presence and froze. Clasping my gloved hands together, I smiled in a way I hope told them I wasn’t angry. “The respect you have given me has left me humbled. I wish to serve you better. This coming war...no this war we are fighting requires I do. I ask that I receive no more than what our guests do. In that way, I know I can do my part in this war.” Jaws popped open into ‘o’s. I expected the silence to turn into chaos. Upheaval of traditions was usually met with staunch resistance but they remained glued in their spots. 

I turned back to my party, intending to ask for guidance, but Lucien leaned on the wall. A proud smile playing on his lips. Looking past me to the kitchen, Lucien added, “You’ve heard your lady.” And like that, the spell was broken and they moved forward. 


	19. Deceive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

Fae and sickness was a rare combination. Disease was a human phenomena. Fae were nearly immortal. If our bodies could sustain us for a thousand years, it could take care of a fever without issue. Only diseases that deprived us of our immortality were considered a threat and they were so rare that sickness was hardly considered a worry after all. 

Sleep deprivation was another story. Our minds were not immortal and required rest. It had been easier to motivate myself to push through it. I’d return from seeing Feyre satisfied and when I drug my feet throughout the day, I knew I’d be seeing Feyre at the end of it. Despite this, I had requested not to be disturbed for the morning. Mor, when she greeted me last night, nodded and drew the curtains to my tent close. I had quickly sliced through the bindings of my armor, letting it fall off my body with a promise to fix it later. My back had barely touched the mattress before my eyes had closed. Mor had kept her promise to prevent all intrusions while I slept. 

In the early afternoon, my eyes snapped open after what had felt like a hundred years of deep slumber. My head half hung from my cot and my neck ached from it. Lifting myself onto my forearms, I reached over to take the pitcher of water meant for washing and chugged it. Half of it spilled down my front but my thoughts were on the desert in my throat. Tossing it away, I rose and changed clothes. I re-laced my armor slowly but methodically, checking the rightness with a few twists of my body. In the privacy of my tent, I let my wings snap outward. 

My armor and clothes I had magically adjusted to let my wings slide in and out as I pleased. Though damage to my armor, specifically the scales, threw off the enchantment and required it to be redone. The Illyirian legions would go see the smiths to fix it; however, when you’re accustomed to numerous assassination attempts like I am, you learned how to fix these things yourself. I extended this policy to my inner circle as well. If they couldn’t fix the damage, I’d do it myself. I rather ensure it done right despite the time it took if it meant they were safe another day. 

But as not many fae were skilled enough to get so close to me as to damage my armor, I found nothing requiring repair. 

I pulled my arms through the leather straps that held my sword sheath to my spine. Tightening the buckles, I reached for my sword a handful of times before I deemed myself appropriately adjusted to my armor and weaponry. As a last minute checked, I looked for the daggers and throwing knives I kept on my boots, thigh strap and forearms. 

Emerging from my tent, I made my way through the camp towards the mess hall. I refused to have meals brought to me. By setting this precedent, I forced Lord Devlon and all his other inbred cronies to follow my lead and get their own meals like the rest of the men. This eliminated the need for servants and excess bodies in the war camp. 

I had not expected my inner circle to be waiting in the mess hall. I took a preserved bowl of boiled barley with a suspicious slice of meat and sat at the table. The one exception I made with status was the assignment of tables. Though I really did this so I could at least expect peace and quiet when I took my meals with my court. “I didn’t expect to find you sorry lot here,” I took a spoon and shoveled my food into my mouth. When sitting in public, I erected a barrier to prevent any conversations from being overheard. 

Mor quirked her eyebrow. “Rhysand. It’s lunchtime.” Azriel choked on his bite, snorting in a very un-Azriel-like gesture. His eyes flicked to mine before looking immediately elsewhere. 

“Don’t worry Mor. It will be your turn soon enough to get an hour of sleep next month,” I enjoyed watching her replace her smirk with grating teeth. Cassian had taught Feyre self-defense and the next month, Mor would be introducing Feyre to her powers, assuming they’d have awoken by then. I knew Mor didn’t resent Feyre personally for it; though I hardly expected her to be overjoyed at going near sleepless for a week's time though. “Azriel, what have you found?” I said, taking another bite of my meal. Cassian barely tried to hide his disgust. He peered at his spoon like it just insulted his mother. 

“Any camps are at least two hundred leagues to the west. But they aren’t large enough to warrant an attack,” he sighed.

“Too far for the majority of the men to winnow and flying that long still takes a toll,” I blew out a breath. Neither the Dark Bringer or Illyrian legions could travel that distance, by magic or wings, and remained primed for battle. Attempting that was likely walking willingly into a trap. Sending in any pair of my inner circle would certainly lead to a slaughter but without an army at our backs, stray arrows and lucky strikes were all the more likely to kill us. The larger army served to distract the majority of Hybern’s grunts so the more powerful could complete the truly critical missions. 

_ Like retrieving that damn Book of Breathings.  _ No matter how many times I sat down to meetings with Tarquin and Tamlin, no ideal plan could be formulated. Though I was loath to admit it, it wasn’t entirely because Tamlin and I barely could sit at a table together. Hybern had scattered troops throughout the Summer Court and his ships sailed the Andros daily. Both land and sea had been denied to us and aerial assault leaves us exposed and acts like a great beacon to our coming. At one point, we’d have to send a dedicated troop to traverse the land on the off chance they can avoid detection. Once Hybern knew what was coming, he’d park his men on top of Adriata and all our chances would be lost.  _ Or he’d just sit the damn Cauldron on it and wash his hands of the whole damn issue,  _ I cursed. 

“We’ll figure out how to get Tarquin there,” Cassian nodded. He rose to his feet, pushing away his empty bowl like it was very likely to bite him. “In the meantime, I am going to run those winged bastards through some drills. Rhysand, no skipping this time.” He left the tent, striding down the rows of men. Dark Bringers and Illyrians alike lifted their head to watch the General of the Night Court walk by. Each had their own feelings towards Cassian. Easily deduced to envy, worship or hatred. 

“It’s my turn to lead reconnaissance,” Mor sighed. Excellent on a battlefield but less inclined to work personally with the soldiers. 

With that, only Azriel and I were left. We left the tent together and ignored the eyes that also followed us out. He would accompany me to the meeting with Tarquin. Once again, speaking about retrieving the Book of Breathings. 

As a way of acting as the peacekeeper, Tarquin’s small camp was sandwiched between Tamlin and I’s. Tarquin’s camp consisted mostly of soldiers mending and refugees to be assigned positions or courts they could travel to. That was well enough because it didn’t invite any soldiers to come and mingle. No increased chances for fights. 

Tarquin’s tent was the largest but not originally meant for the High Lord. It was far too plain for a High Lord but it suited him nonetheless. The dark blue tent was situated at the dead center which forced any visitor to walk through rows of sickbeds, refugee camps and the dying. If Tarquin wanted to use this humbling scene to prevent any bravado in our meetings, he was succeeding. It was difficult to cling to things like pride and greed when you could hear the moans of his people. 

I entered through the flap into the tent. A brazier burned, illuminating the room and yet turning it into a fireplace. Sweat already glistened on my brow. Tarquin sat with Cresseida while Varian had yet to show up. They looked entirely unbothered by the heat. “Cresseida has come with an idea of reaching the Book of Breathings. It isn’t perfect-” Cresseida’s flat expression twitched. “But it is promising.” 

I clapped my hands together, taking a seat nearest the back. Azriel remained standing so I pulled out his seat, motioning. He politely accepted my subliminal order. “Azriel, my Spymaster, has just returned from the reconnaissance we spoke about in our last meeting. Hopefully, we can make use of his knowledge though I don’t promise anything breathtaking.” I gave a cursory wink to them. Cresseida looked mildly amused and Tarquin shook his head, laughing. 

Before any mission planning, we first needed to know how Hybern has mapped out his forces. Where the troops sit and how they rotate would be critical before we send our people in to retrieve the Book. Unfortunately, Hybern’s forces were better at hiding than we hoped. Limited troops on land and ships that rolled out to sea, well beyond our range of knowledge, every night. 

A second figure appeared in the doorway and I resisted clenching my fists. Tamlin stood with the sun at his back, illuminating his blond head. If I squinted, which I never would, I could almost imagine the tan lines left on his face from the mask. In a flick of his eyes, he scanned us and took a seat across from both Tarquin and I. 

“Good of you to join, Tamlin,” Tarquin greeted with a polite smile. “Rhysand had just told us that his Spymaster has some intel and Cresseida will be proposing an idea for how we should execute the mission.” 

Addressing Tarquin, Tamlin said, “I’d also like to propose an idea for another reconnaissance mission.” I had several witty responses but I bit my tongue. 

“We will have time for those as well,” Tarquin said, looking generally pleased. “Azriel, please start.” 

Azriel slipped into his emotionless facade with an ease Cassian and I had never quite achieved. His quiet and private persona allowed this mysterious mask to exist without any questions or doubts that it wasn’t real. “Thank you, High Lord Tarquin,” he bowed his head. “I was ordered to fly over as much of the Summer Court territory I could to allow me to leave and return under the cover of night. As this past week had a full moon, I waited for the cloudiest of nights. My goal was to get a general location to Hybern’s troops, their numbers and how they move. With the permanent fixtures in each of the troops locations, I would have to reason these are checkpoints with no intention of packing up and moving. They’ve erected more permanent lodgings and even stables as well. As for their numbers, each camp hosts over a hundred fae soldiers minimum. But overall, I could only find eight camps.” 

Silence met Azriel’s report as I knew it would. Hybern amassed an entire army to lay waste to the entire Summer Court coast and only eight hundred men could be located from that massive army? “What do you make of this Azriel? Hybern has more than a couple hundred fae,” Tarquin asked, folding his fingers together beneath his chin.

“My beliefs are that the majority of his troops are aboard ships, off the coast. This would explain why Hybern retreats by night and can damage a large area of land at a time.” 

“That’s it?” Tamlin asked, glaring at Azriel. “Your report consisted of officially informing us that Hybern’s forces are  _ missing _ ?” 

Azriel turned slowly to face Tamlin, assessing the High Lord. His shadows, much to Azriel’s credit, continued to slowly waft around him like steam evaporating. “Yes. You are correct.” 

Tamlin rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “That is barely anything worth using.” 

“Not so. It tells us that Hybern isn’t done planning yet,” I said, leaning forward towards the map painted on the table. “If he was, he would be deploying all his soldiers to execute his plan. But right now, he’s content to keep us in a game of hide and seek.” 

“Or Hybern is enjoying the upper hand by engaging solely in guerilla warfare. He knows he can beat us like this and resists losing all his forces by putting them within our reach,” Tamlin shook his head. “The smart leader knows when to keep his tools close.” 

My jaw clenched and I forced myself to relax. Breathing through the tension before either Tarquin or Tamlin took note. “And he is keeping the Cauldron very close. He hasn’t used it in a single attack. He didn’t go through the effort of assembling it to keep it as a centerpiece. He intends to use it for something. We must figure that out.” 

Tarquin nodded, sighing. “Tamlin, what is your idea of gathering intelligence?” I didn’t believe Tarquin to be dismissing me. I could understand his desire to move onto solutions instead of questions with no answers. 

“Hybern’s troops that we know of are positioned in the woods. We should employ the Spring Court’s remaining Urisks to gather intelligence. They can remain in tree-form almost indefinitely when not bound to a house as a servant.” The Urisks were usually found in the Summer Court but their population was impossible to know as many are bound to a house and Hybern has crumbled entire cities to the ground.

“I agree. We need to know more,” I seconded. If Tamlin was surprised by my support, he didn’t show it. Instead appearing more bothered. 

“Send a letter to your Court then. I trust you to plan this mission and execute,” Tarquin nodded.

Heaving a sigh before speaking, Cresseida began. “Now for the mission into Adriata. We’ve been stuck by how to enter the city. By sea, we run into Hybern’s massive fleet that might just host an entire army. By land, we take double the time to travel and arrive exhausted. All while avoiding Hybern’s checkpoint camps. An aerial legion that Lord Rhysand has offered is promising but limits who can be brought. Not every Illyrian can hold a full grown fae. Especially not with how heavy Lord Tarquin is.” Tarquin rolled his eyes, smiling at his cousin. Swinging her finger over the map of the Summer Court largely occupied by Hybern, she concluded, “And we still run the risk of discovery if any troops, on land or sea, were to spot our black figures in the sky.” 

“Yes, that is the problem,” Tamlin stated.

“So we go by sea,” she replied, ignoring Tamlin. “The only fae required to retrieve the book is Tarquin. We travel under the water, away from all eyes and detection.” 

“If they detect the large expense of magic right under their noses?” I asked, placing a finger to my lips. 

“We bring the Spell Cleaver. Helion won’t mind the danger and he’ll ensure no spells touch us,” finally her lips turned into a smile of pure satisfaction. “The Book is underwater. We’ll be underwater. It’s our field to play in.” 

“You will need a distraction. Azriel, speak with our General and start devising plans,” I dismissed Azriel with a sweep of my hands. He rose quietly and bowed to the table. Cresseida and Tarquin nodded their heads back in respect. In one step, he vanished into the shadows of the tent. “Once we know more, we can revisit this plan. Cresseida, you’ve a cunning mind,” I smiled at her. 

Her returning grin would eat lesser males alive. “I’m aware. Thank you, High Lord.” 

“We’ve also received word that the Day and Dawn court are mobilized. The Winter Court a day away,” Tarquin cleared his throat through the uncomfortable silence.   
I opened my mouth to comment when the tent folds snapped open. Mor stood in the doorway, breathless. I rose from my seat, immediately invading her mind. Troops were pouring off a ship only twenty leagues west of our camp. They were coming for a slaughter. “Hybern ships only a couple leagues west. We need to move _now_ ,” she ordered us. 

“Tarquin, your people-” 

“I’ll divide my forces to help your people,” Tamlin interrupted and marched from the tent.  _ So much for a unified front.  _

“My camp can burn for all I care. They can’t push us back,” I hissed, racing after Mor into the woods leading to the war front. The hustle and clamor of soldiers filled my ears as we raced into the woods. Mor led the way, clad in red-tinted armor. She carried twin blades, unsheathed. 

Veering to my right, I tapped into my court’s minds.  _ Not a single soldier reaches the camp until the Summer Court has evacuated. Cassian. The Illyrians are to approach from behind Hybern’s troops to block them in. Mor, ensure the Dark Bringers are heading the front. Azriel. Any who manage to pass the front I leave to you.  _

I stopped in the middle of the woods, falling into stance and engaging just as the battle reached its crescendo.


	20. Supply

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Lucien had found a hole that was protected by large boulders and rock slides on all sides. It would require someone to crawl into the hole to remove supplies but it was hidden. It was due South of the small pocket in the Wall and barely over half a day’s ride from the manor. Under the cover of night, Lucien’s soldiers would drop off the supplies so no humans would detect the motion. In early dawn, we rode out to pick up the supplies with two horse-drawn carts and some Summer Court citizens to help load the carts. When we arrived, we realized that we had severely underestimated Nesta and Elain’s ability to acquire large shipments of food in such a short period of time. 

“How many threats do you suppose were included in the order?” Lucien asked me as we stood at the stop of the hole that held all the dropped supplies. The hole barely held the supplies. It more so overflowed with them. Sacks of flour, barley, rice, and millet all stacked neatly to the rim. “I guess the soldiers will have to get used to cake,” Lucien laughed as he leaned down and picked up a sack labelled ‘sugar’. 

_ Elain, _ I thought. 

Laughter bubbled out from my stomach and I could hardly contain myself in the early light of dawn. I pressed a hand to my mouth and even bit down hard to keep myself from drawing attention but my happiness refused to be silenced. Tears peaked out from my eyes as I beheld what was the physical representation of Nesta’s true might. “She’ll have to teach me her ways,” I squeaked out, suppressing the urge to laugh even more.

“This will take at least double the amount of carts we have,” Lucien shook his head when I had calmed down.

“I guess we have our work cut out for us,” I slapped my hands together. I turned back to Kadri who was a few steps down the rock slide from me. “Can you assemble everyone into a line? We will pass the sacks as we grab them.”

Kadri nodded, turning back to the rest of the Summer people standing at the base. We formed two long lines to either cart. Lucien and I would lift the sacks from the hole, hand them to the next person and they’d be passed person to person before being placed in the cart. My back ached and legs screamed as I descended into the hole and rose back out to pass of the next load.

Halfway down, we had filled the carts to the brim. I silently thanked our past selves for arriving at pre-dawn. It was still early morning and unlikely anyone would pass by this close to the Wall.

“If we don’t ride, we can put some sacks on the horses,” Lucien suggested. Breathless, I agreed to stay behind with Lucien and we waited for the Summer Court to deliver the supplies to the manor before coming back for more. Bron and Hart, out of duty to me, also remained behind but let one of their horses be used to carry more grains. The other they insisted on keeping in case they needed to spirit me away.

From all the hard training I had been enduring at night, I jumped on the opportunity to sit down and rest. I had emptied my water bladder and Hart had passed me his, a knowing smile on his lips. I ducked my head in thanks, taking a long swallow. 

Lucien remained standing. His face was scrunched up as he studied the remaining supplies. “We’ll need to know what the shipments look like from now on. It’s barely a half a day's ride south of here. Would you be alright with Bron and Hart?” Lucien asked me. His words came out rushed and awkward. “It would be faster than a letter.” 

** I raised my brows. “Yes, I’m sure Bron and Hart can keep me company just fine,” I laughed, sending him away with a wave. I took Lucien’s decision to leave me with only Bron and Hart in the Human Realm as a symbol of his growing trust in my ability.  _ It was a start _ , I smiled to myself.  **


	21. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

I had already been halfway to my horse when Feyre consented to me leaving for her sister’s home. I told myself it was faster this way. I told myself it would help us prepare better for retrieving the supplies. I told myself a hundred ill-conceived reasons that would delude me further from accepting I just wanted to see Elain. Or speak to her. 

The moment it became an idea when speaking with Feyre, I was unable to shove it away. It nagged at me. My heart raced at the thought. The possibility of visiting was pulling me eagerly in the direction of the Archeron home. 

I knew Feyre would agree. One look at her and I knew she was eager for independence. I really had taken advantage of her eagerness and if Tamlin knew, he’d be angry. But I also knew Feyre and I had our silent ways to avoid Tamlin’s short temper. This moment would go forgotten. Bron and Hart certainly valued their lives enough not to tell their High Lord that his right hand had risked his betrothed’s life eagerly and they had stood by and watched. 

All the same, I snapped the reins harder. I would run if I knew my immortal speeds wouldn’t give my fae heritage to any onlookers. Riding as hard as I did, it took half the time I expected. 

Sherwood was the closest to me when I neared. I pulled hard on the reins to keep from running past. My horse kicked onto his back hooves, almost kicking Sherwood in the process and throwing me to the ground. “What happened, my lord?” he asked, raising a hand to calm the huffing animal. With the trademark green eyes of the Spring Court, Sherwood’s wide eyes were unnatural when fixed upon me.

“What?” I asked. “Oh, nothing of import. I realized I needed to speak with Nesta. We need to know how many supplies she intends to order,” I paused, catching my breath. “Our carts were filled,” I summarized, neatly bypassing the quizzical look he sent me. I didn't care to reexplain at the moment. 

Sherwood stepped in front of me, adjusting his sword. “Lady Nesta is away currently. She is posting a letter. Should I take your message to her?” 

“No, I’ll need a response today. I can wait,” I stepped around him and continued in the direction of the house. 

“Lady Elain is currently entertaining a Mr. Graysen, her fiance. This might have to wait till later,” Sherwood said at my back. 

“Does Nesta know?” I shot back. 

Sherwood shrugged. “Young love, no?” I rolled my eyes and marched towards the manor, intent on seeing this for myself. Sherwood followed hastily after. “Both Oliver and Shepard are watching. Farrel and Aaron have the nightwatch so they’re at camp. We wouldn’t let them alone, my lord. We’re guarding her as you ordered-”

I raised my hand to silence his rambling. We were approaching the garden and I knew human hearing wasn’t a complete loss. 

Sure enough, sitting at the same table I had before was Elain and the human I would now know as Graysen. Of a decently solid build, the most average human male I ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on was enjoying tea with Elain. 

Embarrassment colored my cheeks for the moment.  _ What did I expect?  _ I was acting like a fool to see a girl I knew was engaged and partly terrified by the fae.  _ How could I forget the fae-hating betrothed?  _ I looked to Elain’s dainty finger where an ugly iron ring clutched it. 

I shook myself, letting the feelings of foolishness wash over me and remind me that I had a duty. I had a duty that I wouldn’t shirk now. As I looked over Elain, sitting pertly in a yellow dress and smiling softly at her fiance, I knew I couldn’t throw away my responsibilities even for someone like her.

So I resolved to wait for Nesta’s return and in the process was privy to their entire conversation. 

“Spring seems so far now,” Elain said wistfully. 

“Really? This garden could have fooled me,” Graysen motioned to the flowers still in full bloom despite it being midfall. Elain laughed. “Spring will be here before you know it. By then, we’ll have made space for your new garden,” he assured her, placing a hand over her white-clad one. 

“I’m sure I’ll require more space than what you’ve given,” she smiled. 

“I cannot wait for all of my troubles to be finding more room for my wife’s garden,” Graysen said, rising to his feet. “I need to be on my way. My father expects me home.” 

Elain pouted slightly, nodding. She rose to her feet and he kissed her cheek briefly, leaving her in the gazebo. She watched him go, taking no notice of me standing less than two paces away. I admired her graceful figure. She stood with impeccable posture that begged someone to paint her. 

Knowing I should reveal myself, I cleared my throat. She gasped and spun. Her cheeks were a violent shade of pink. “Were...were you spying on us?” she whispered. It occurred to me that maybe her blush wasn’t due to embarrassment. 

“No...no,” I said more firmly. “I...I just needed to speak with the Lady Nesta.” 

“I do not enjoy being watched when I thought I had a moment of privacy,” she replied and my guilt was ten fold. I had to avert my eyes for the shame. 

“I am sorry, Lady Elain,” I said earnestly. I dared to meet her eyes again, pleading with my own. 

She scanned my face, her blush fading. Finding no deception, she nodded curtly in a very Nesta-like gesture. “Nesta is out at the post. She’ll be back soon,” she said, placing the tea cups rather forcefully on the tray. 

She dismissed me when she turned to the house. I reached a hand out. Grasping at someone who I had no connection to. “Elain I am sorry.” I shoved away all insecurity at being watched by my men. They were inconsequential at the moment. 

She looked back at me, assessing. Her lips lost their firmness. Her shoulders relaxed and she set down the tray. “I believe you.”  I breathed out a sigh of pure relief, somehow hinging my entire day on her opinion of me. She watched my display curiously. In a surprising turn of events she offered tea. And I accepted enthusiastically. I watched her serve me a now-chilled cup of tea and I took my time with every sip, studying her. Extending the time I sat across from her as much as I could before I would be forced to retreat.

“He seems very nice, Lady Elain,” I said, trying to dig myself out from the hole I had stupidly thrown myself into. Even while walking myself straight into another. 

“Just Elain is fine,” she replied. Looking at her folded hands in her lap she nodded. “He likes things like hunting and...and ale," she laughed at her own private joke. "But he is tender. I’ve seen it.” Her honey curls bounced as she spoke. Her eyes were far off, thinking back to all her shared moments with Graysen. She sat quietly, tapping her lower lip with her finger. Completely comfortable sitting in silence with her full heart. 

“And you love him?” I asked, like a fool. 

Without missing a beat, “I do, with all my heart.” 


	22. Sham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

The time I spent sharpening my sword was paid back to me in full with every soldier I ran clean through. Ultimately, they would leave themselves open. They’d overstep. Their arm would swing too wide. Or they would turn their backs. And I’d strike quickly, barely watching them fall. I was already swinging at a different opponent. Continuously pushing forward into the endless front of soldiers. 

The forest had turned from serene to chaos. A mud pit of bodies swinging at each other or busy dying on the ground. Screams and war cries mingled with the moans of the injured. The humidity kept the scent of body odor and blood in the air. Sweat clung to me. Dripping from my forehead. I wiped hastily at my eyes, smearing my face with streaks of blood. 

Barely any time before another soldier pushed through the Dark Bringer legion and aimed for me. He was screaming profanities I wasn’t hearing. He charged. Raised his sword. I stepped neatly into his personal space. My sword rammed upwards entering through his navel and undoubtedly exited near his spine. He spat blood when I withdrew. 

I wanted to check on my circle. Reach out to them. Check for their pulses. But I was swarmed by Dark Bringers and Hyberian soldiers that clashed around me. I could only see the black of the Night Court legions. No idea whether the Illyrians had cornered Hybern’s army. Every cry I heard could have been them. It drove me to move faster. End this fight quicker.

I gave my thoughts and worries away. Lessening the mental load, I focused on the rhythm of the battle. Approach. Shield. Paray. Lunge and Strike. Approach. Shield. Paray. Lunge and Strike. Over and over until I could predict when soldier’s would break through the Dark Bringer’s to fight me. I’d spin on sheer instinct to face them. Barely feeling the passing of time. It was an exercise in persistence. 

I’d spent every year since the War ended waiting for this moment when it all came to a head. I had waited too long to fail now. 

Mor spun in a dazzling display of deathly prowess. Using her shortsword to back up her opponent before using her momentum to drive her dirk into their eyes. She barely registered the hit before kicking away the soldier and launching at her next opponent. Her right hand held her dirk and left, the shortsword, and together she blocked both long and close ranged attacks. Where her shortsword was blocked, she closed into her opponent with her dirk aiming at the tender tissue. With her shortsword, she hacked at soldiers until they were deprived of their limb’s or lives. 

_ Someone should gift her an axe,  _ I mused in the back of my mind. 

Beyond her, I could spot the flash of green tunics and armor. Tamlin was fighting down the line. I wasn’t yet deafened by a roar so I knew he hadn’t shifted into his True Form entirely yet. As much as I wished to fight him for every wrong we had committed against one another, I wanted to order my troops to guard the High Lord as well. If only for Feyre’s sake. 

A surge of soldiers pushed forward. Forcing the wall the Spring Court, Dark Bringers, Mor and I had formed to step back or risk being trampled under. Rallying cries sounded as they drew spears and lunged to hit us. “Faebane!” I heard a soldier cry from our side. 

I pushed towards them, taking my sword and chopping off the heads of the spears. In the next moment I was forcing the hole I had formed open. Hybern planned for this. More soldiers filled the gap. They jabbed their spears at me and I was forced to retreat. My magic was begging for release. With two uniform sides formed, it would be pathetically easy to mist their lines without accidentally sacrificing my own men as well. Layers of soldiers pressed our lines, almost teasing me with the thought of wiping out a generous piece of Hybern’s forces.

I was robbed of the choice by a deafening cry from hundreds of Illyrian’s descending from the canopy above. Branches snapped as they dove, attacking Hybern from the air. Red siphons caught the sun. My eyes were drawn to Cassian who tucked in his wings, falling feet first into the center of Hybern’s forces. He withdrew his twin blades. A wild grin turned his face sinister. With a guttural scream, he jammed his first blade into the neck of the first soldier to approach. 

From both sides, all forces backed Hybern’s soldiers into each other. Cassian worked from the center to force them to break up so we could finish them off.  _ Cassian, get airborne _ , I hissed. I used my shortsword to hack off the faebane-tipped spears. If they nicked me, I wouldn’t be able to rely on any magic or use it for any later assaults they had. Despite wanting to hoard it for the worst-case scenario, we needed to break the lines or we’d be exhausted. 

I felt no reply from Cassian. About to reach out again, I was silenced by a shadow cast above my head. Jumping from the narrow space he had, he opened his wings and snapped them in quick succession to put him beyond the swords that chased him. In a beat, he was beyond the canopy of the trees. 

I dipped into my pool of magics and with half a thought, misted the forces in front of me. The field was temporarily frozen. Both Hybern and our combined forces stopped, watching the cloud of red mist float on the humid winds. The warm film coated our skins in the sticky blood. All eyes were drawn to the large hole of soldiers in the line Hybern’s soldiers had worked to maintain. 

And the lull in battle was over. Our forces dove into that break with all their might. I hung back, watching the carnage. I extended my magical senses beyond the battle for traps waiting. No magic besides that of Hybern’s ships. Certainly no Cauldron.  _ Mor. We need no prisoners.  _ Her blonde head covered in dirt and blood bobbed up and down that she heard my silent order. Her hands flexed on the handles of her weapons, watching our legions bring down the remaining Hybern troops.

I turned from the slaughter to go to the camps and begin to see our camp moved. My right knee ached from the day. A shout stopped my movement. I looked back, scanning the slaughter. Something took flight from the ships into the skys. A black figure spread it’s wings. I recognized the Attor by it’s ugly screech as it flapped to escape the woods, likely to return to Hybern. A dark object was clutched in it’s clawed feet. As I took in the scene, I locked eyes with the inhuman slits of the Attor. It seemed to smile at my presence. It’s claw punctured the bag and a fine dust was spread over the battle. 

The horror of seeing the Attor had caught me unawares. Gripped me and yanked my memories back to Under the Mountain where Amarantha had enjoyed her complete control of my life. I stood, struck by the odd sensation of wrongness that the Attor was here.  _ You should be dead _ , I aimed my thoughts at the beast. It cackled. 

My hand went to my sword, ready to cut it down myself. But it barely paid me heed as it landed on the far side of the battle and was winnowed away by two darkly dressed figures. 

Coughing caught my attention and Mor stepped from the field. I reached out to help her but she batted me away. “I feel like I just drank saw dust,” she said raspily, ripping my water jug from my belt and chugging the rest. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand which smeared the blood from the soldiers I misted earlier. She barely caught her breath when another coughing fit overtook her. 

“Mor what can I do? What was that?” I asked, standing protectively over her while she worked to clear her throat. When I looked to the fields, I already had an inkling of what the Attor had spread over the battle. The Illyrian’s finished slaughtering Hybern’s army while the Dark Bringers and Spring Court were so overcome they had to step back. They were all hacking their lungs out, clutching their chests or downing the water in their jugs. A few dipped down to the river to slurp the water.

My hands went to Mor’s waist, ready to take to the skies to avoid the fine dust. But the wind was already carrying it away from us towards the west. 

“Faebane,” Mor glared, finally standing straight. 

“They had a sack of powdered fae bane?” I looked alarmed at Mor. “How could they have that much…” I straightened, shaking my head. This spoke to the land Hybern had acquired to farm the poison. “He’s making it himself. We need to know who is hurt from it. We can’t stay here-” 

Mor planted her hands on my shoulders. “Rhysand. No one is winnowing away here. We can’t have you expend all your magic just to move us. High Lord Tarquin and Kallias would be the only High Lords with their magics.” Her unspoken words were clearly implied. If I had no magic, my entire court was vulnerable and we unfortunately had no shortage of enemies. I wanted to doubt Tarquin would ever betray me but Kallias wouldn’t be so willing to forgive after Amarantha slaughtered their children and declared me an accomplice. “We will have to move our people the regular way: marching.” 

“I am, by no means, ready for a long march,” Cassian said from somewhere behind me. His hair was falling out of the tail he tied it in and slick with grease. A shallow cut on his arm was bleeding but he looked mostly uninjured.

Azriel stood besides Cassian, showing his fair share of grime. “What? Did Mor let any soldiers past her?” I joked. 

Azriel smiled, glancing at Mor. “I was helping the Spring Court with any who bypassed their front line. But to answer your question, Mor did not let a single soldier pass her. You, however, let two get by your defense my lord.” He said  _ my lord  _ with mock sincerity. The smile was wiped from my face and Cassian barked a laugh. “Cassian did say you had been remiss in attending training with the Illyrian legions,” he said with a knowing smile on his face. 

“I admit. It’s been too long since I beat your ass into the mud. Once we set camp we can make this right again,” I enjoyed watching Cassian’s grin turn feral. “In the meantime, go round up the army. I have to speak with the other High Lords about marching. Azriel, you’re not to leave Mor’s side. She took a healthy dose of the faebane and until she can winnow the entire continent of Prythian, I don’t want her out of your sight.”

Mor spoke, prepared to argue. “Rhysand, I’m-”

“Woefully weakened against someone who seriously means to do you harm. This is non-negotiable, Mor.” She crossed her arms over her chest with her blades sticking out on either side, both dripping blood with hairs and pieces of gore attached. I knew that Mor’s magic was only one small facet of her potential. I trusted that whatever assassin that faced her would know it was a mistake to ever face the Morrigan in hand-to-hand combat. And yet knowing these things, I would not let my publicly-weakened cousin walk away without the assurance she was safe. “Tell me you understand this Mor,” I almost pleaded. 

Her eyes softened into watery, blue orbs. “Of course I do, Rhys.” And there was my younger cousin again, begging me to play with her when I visited the Court of Nightmares as a boy. 

I took a few steps into the woods finding my legs ached and winnowed the remaining distance onto the edge of Tarquin’s camp. He was easy to locate as he stood over a table with Varian in the center of his camp where his tent had stood a day ago. 

Varian nudged him and Tarquin looked up to see me approaching. He smiled benignly. “High Lord Rhysand, my soldier told me you broke the lines which finished the battle.” 

“Yes. We ran the risk of being cut by faebane-tipped spears otherwise. What good that did when most of the Dark Bringers and Spring Court was coated in faebane in some botched attempt at hurting us,” my emotions usually swung between indifference and playfulness. My very tangible annoyance was new to Tarquin and he paused, assessing me with his sea-blue eyes. 

“You did what you could and that is what helped my people,” he inclined his head gracefully. “I’ll not forget that, Rhysand.”

I extended my arm and he clasped arms with mine, sharing a smile with me. Despite being in the center of the camp, I felt a private kind of understanding settle between the two of us. “We’ll still need to march by sunset, I am afraid. Whatever able-bodied soldier is available, I will send to you to use as you please.” After a pause, “I’ll send Cassian as well to help...translate.” My legions were difficult to command in the best of times. Under a High Lord like Tarquin and they would run amok. 

Tarquin tilted his head back and laughed, “How political. Yes, Rhysand. Send your General. It’s been too long since I’ve laid eyes on the Illyirian that destroyed a piece of my city.” 

“Please remind him of that once you see him. As a favor.” 

“With pleasure.”

I walked away feeling satisfaction for possibly the first time after meeting with another High Lord. Except maybe for Helion but I knew Helion's easygoing attitude was a well-crafted mask. But no small satisfaction could lift me from the unease that settled in my stomach. This battle was nothing. Over in perhaps an hour with less than a couple hundred soldiers. No Hybern. No Cauldron. It was a minor victory. 

Hybern has a weaponized Cauldron in his arsenal. He is above these small skirmishes. So when did he intend to bring this battle into a War? What is he waiting on?


	23. Accept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

We moved the location of the war camp twice in a single week. The first time we set down, it was because our injured needed tending and delaying longer without a healer like Thessian was risking massive death. Thus we picked up once we had healed our soldiers and carried on, backing the war camp nearly into the Autumn Court. 

I had promised not to let Hybern take another grain of land from Tarquin and he had nearly conquered the entire Summer Court. Despite this, Tarquin’s resolve that we would eventually win against King Hybern never faltered. I could hardly tell if he had any doubts himself. He commanded we meet more once High Lord Kallias had arrived and we heeded these calls. But the outcomes were much the same. Information on Hybern was lacking and we were unprepared to form a mission that could very well result in the deaths of any one of the High Lords. 

I sat in another meeting, reclined in my seat with Mor at my right. Cassian refused to attend the meetings and Azriel made himself scarce or busy when a meeting came around. As my third in command, Mor was oddly disinclined to attend herself but she did so out of duty. 

“The Urisks my right hand has sent me are in position. A couple of days more and I’m sure we will know more on Hybern’s ultimate plan.” Tamlin was speaking and I bit my tongue until it bled a little. That oaf strode into the meeting with a sack of flour and declared that with how the supplies were arriving, he would like to share his bounty with the Summer Court refugees. Tarquin gracefully accepted and Tamlin sat down, a pleased smile on his lips. 

He first robs the refugees that arrive on his borders of half their food stores for his own army and then gets the hero’s reward when he returns what was taken. I was unsure if anyone sitting at the table pieced it together but the flour Tamlin held was human. I highly doubted that anyone else in the Spring Court besides Feyre would be able to procure such quantity of supplies from the Human Realm.

I wanted nothing more than to reach down that mental bond and invite Feyre into my mind. Let her witness her betrothed’s two-sidedness. That petty part of me considered it. The part that desired Feyre’s respect knew she’d never view me the same either, scheming to get her favor. And with my entire being, I rejected the idea of making her cry with something so harmful. 

Instead I watched silently and kept quiet throughout the conversation. 

There were times like this I would reach out to Feyre but she kept her shields raised vigilantly. I missed the contact I’d find there. The stream of thoughts and questions she asked herself silently when she worked through problems. I considered contacting her, sending her a gift or a letter, but I deeply desired her willingness in our relationship. In a painful way, I needed her to know I would never force unwanted contact on her. 

Mor, sensing something discomforting to me, pressed her hand to mine. Her face betrayed nothing but I saw it for what it was. A display of solidarity. She was with me even if Feyre could not be. 

After the meeting, I returned to my own camp considering the merits of an early night’s rest. Mor had other plans. She slipped into my tent and perched herself at my desk. “You should go see her,” she said. With her magic returned, she easily slipped that barrier around us to prevent eavesdropping. I thought Azriel might have been a little saddened at the loss of company. 

“It isn’t a part of our bargain,” I replied easily, dipping my quill into the inkwell and writing out my thoughts on Hybern’s motives. It paid to keep detailed notes. I would continue to decode his motives until they were laid bare to me. 

“Neither is your mating bond.” 

Despite the barrier, I glared. “I won’t force my company on her. I am well attuned to her emotions. She’s happy,” as I spoke, I had already drifted to Feyre’s mind to ensure it. She was satisfied with herself. 

“You would not be forcing your company. Tell her the truth and she’ll understand why you desire to see her more than one week a month,” Mor quipped, reaching over me to grab my untouched dinner. She picked until she found a pickled beet.

“She has enough to worry about. I will tell her when the time is right.” 

“There will never be a right time. The longer you wait, the more it will feel like deception. She’s had enough of that. You have as well. Give her your honesty. She deserves that.” I could pick and poke at everyone of Mor’s arguments until I had spoken myself hoarse but none of them would ever be enough. Feyre deserved my honesty. Not because she was my mate or that I loved her or she saved us. Because we had been through so much together and even if she never desired me as her mate, we were partners. She was a part of my inner circle now and I could not continue this deception.

I pushed away from the table.  _ I am no longer in Amarantha’s court. I do not have to distance myself from the people I love.  _ I rose to my feet, nodding. “Alright, I’ll go to her.” Mor squealed, hugging me despite my armor. 

“I’ll pull out your nice kurta that I gifted you,” she grinned. As she dug through my chest, she sent a glare my way. “You did pack that, right?”

“Yes, I’d never dream of leaving home without it,” I rolled my eyes. Mor was quick and deliberate in her punishments. She thwacked my head with the pillow off my cot. Then tossed the kurta over my head, leaving through the tent flap. 


	24. Transform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I sat in the library once again, behind a large oak table I had silently claimed as my own. Books on diplomacy were piled high on either side of my notes. I had three candles sitting to illuminate the table and maybe awaken my tired eyes. My hand ached from the time I spent writing but it only urged me to do more. Write more notes. Cross them out and start over again. Satisfaction from a day of work followed me into bed and I slept through the night mostly. Though nightmares would strike occasionally. 

Indeed, I had divided my day between picking up supplies and writing draft letters to the Human Realm to fulfill my bargain with Rhysand. Today had been the first day after two weeks that we had not set out before dawn to pick up supplies. There would be a heavier shipment tomorrow but today we were freed from that duty. The Summer Court citizens eagerly freed themselves from the cataloging of the supplies and spent the day frolicking in the sun outside. 

I finished the draft I would send to the Human Queens instead. I had rewritten it countless times and burned every attempt. Each day I had to burn any pieces I deemed non essential to prevent discovery. But this letter, I had known by the paper I was to write it on that it would be the final draft. It took up the entire page and at the bottom, I signed my name in a beautiful example of cursive. I foolishly had spent half the prior night practicing my signature in anticipation of this moment. 

The letter spoke of who I am and the poverty I had been raised in. I glossed over the reasons but I detailed I had fallen in love with the High Lord of the Spring Court. That this led to me freeing the fae from Amarantha by winning a bargain I had entered into with the fae queen. That I died to save the fae male I loved and was soon to become the future Lady of the Spring Court. I wrote of what I had seen of Pacifico, an empty town Hybern destroyed for pleasure and how he possessed the Cauldron. How he wouldn’t stop at the Wall. I pleaded for their understanding and a meeting so we could use the Book of Breathings to end the threat Hybern posed together. 

Several times, I had almost crossed out the relationship between Tamlin and I. I wanted to. I resented the idea of confiding in the Human Queens my feelings for the fae male that I now questioned. But my story had started with Tamlin. I was brought into the fae world by Tamlin. I chose to face whatever awaited me Under the Mountain for Tamlin. Fought and died for him. I sat in that chair, writing that letter to the Human Queens, because I had met Tamlin. 

Despite my conflicting emotions, the love I had for Tamlin was a part of my story now. My eyes looked to my engagement ring and I bit my lip. The person Tamlin had fallen in love with died.  _ This engagement ring was meant for a different woman.  _

I rose with a tired sigh, closing the books I had opened. I folded the letter meant for the Human Queens and slid it between the pages of the practice book Rhysand gifted me. I would take it wherever I went until I could hand it to Rhysand myself. It had only been two weeks but I dreaded waiting another week to speak with him. 

I left the library, greeted by Bron and Hart at the doors, and mentally envisioned the bath I would have Alis prepare for me tonight. 

I stopped ascending the staircase. Bron and Hart paused as well. “My lady?” Bron asked, stepping to my side. “Are you unwell?” His eyes drifted to my stomach and I could have laughed had I not been seized with fear. 

“No, Bron,” I forced myself to say. “I need to speak with Lucien right now.” 

“Lord Lucien?” 

“Yes, take me to him,” I nodded, spinning in place on the stairs. Bron and Hart glanced at one another and led the way outside. The air was crisp in the night and I pulled my baby blue cloak a little tighter. In the stables, Lucien was brushing down his horse.  _ Of course I’d find him here.  _ He sought out private places on the manor grounds almost as much as I did. “Lucien. I need to go to Nesta and Elain.”

“Now? Why?” he asked. His calm voice was covering up the tightening of his hand on the wire brush. “Are they unwell? Did Juniper deliver a message?” 

I took note of his concern for my sisters and filed it away. “No, nothing like that. I just need to speak with my sisters.”

“Feyre, it’s near midnight. Surely-” 

I turned to face Bron and Hart, smiling politely. “Would you give Lucien and I privacy?” They eagerly ducked out of the stables. The truth was perched on my tongue and I eagerly let it fall off. “Lucien. I need to speak with my sisters so I can use their home as a meeting place to meet with the Human Queens. I need to meet with them to persuade them to hand over their piece of the Book of Breathings so we can stop the Cauldron.” 

As I spoke, his easy expression fell. His tan face paled to the color of sickness. “What? How do you know about the Cauldron? Or even the Book? Why are you writing to the Human Queens?” 

I breathed out softly. I relished this moment that Lucien trusted me wholeheartedly. I knew hereafter, he might always see me differently. “It was my bargain,” I admitted. Despite the potential loss of my friend, the weight lifted from my shoulders was a rush of relief. I needn’t explain further. He knew my meaning once I said the words. “High Lord Rhysand asked me to become Ambassador to the Human Realm, beseech the Human Queens and get their copy of the Book of Breathings. He believed I was the only one who could make them see what we face.” 

Lucien placed a hand over his mouth. “He wants the Book,” he shook his head. 

“He does not want the Book for himself. He wants to end this war before it destroys everyone,” I shot back. 

“He is using you as a spy and to take the book for himself.” 

Rage filled me and I stepped so close to Lucien, I was a hair’s breadth away. “I have never spied on you or this court for him and I never would. Rhysand never asked me too.”

“This is why you’re so familiar with him. You’re working with chaos incarnate!” Lucien’s voice rose until he shouted. “You should have told us, Feyre. Tamlin does not even know. How am I supposed to tell him this? That you deceived us!” 

I threw out my arms. “Deceived you? You never  _ asked _ ,” I spat back, chest heaving. His eyes were wide and mouth open in shock. I swallowed, looking at my feet. “Neither of you asked. It’s like you were ashamed of me. Like I was dirty. Like I should be blamed for how I survived,” my voice broke. His one eye watered as he beheld me. “Instead I was given pairs of gloves to hide me away like a mistake to be erased.” I wanted to stay angry but I was tired of that anger. I wanted them to come around first. To ask about the bargain and face the ugly truth. I wanted them to confirm to me I was worth that much to them. 

Lucien reached towards me. I first stepped away but he reached out again. “I’m sorry Feyre,” I let him enfold me in his arms. Tears leaked out and I buried my face in his chest. “I guess...I guess I didn’t want to know. I was supposed to protect you and I failed to reach you in time. You never would have had to make that bargain if I had done my duty.” 

I leaned my head on his chest, shaking it. “If I hadn’t made the bargain, I wouldn’t be where I am now." I could feel Lucien open his mouth but I continued anyway. "We have a chance to reach the Human Queens. Rhysand was right. I can convince the Human Queens and I don’t resent a single moment of the bargain,” Lucien was listening while smoothing my hair softly. 

“I trust you Feyre,” he affirmed, holding me close. “I’m sorry...I suspected you of spying on us.” 

I wiped my nose on the back of my gloved hand. “Rhysand would not ask me to spy on this court.”

“So it’s Rhysand to you?” he smiled, smoothing a stray hair from my face. The lack of formality I used should have given me away days ago. 

I nodded, smiling guiltily. “Yes. It’s Rhysand to me.” No titles. No formalities. Just the fae male that’s left. After a moment, I turned to Lucien’s horse and stroked it’s auburn nose softly. “We need to leave for my sister’s home.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “In the middle of the night? Nesta might actually breathe fire.” I laughed with him but we saddled horses anyway for us and Bron and Hart, leaving for my sister’s home under the new moon. 

I had been so terrified of telling Lucien about the bargain. He never asked and I gladly accepted his contentedness at not knowing. But now that I had told him I knew he would view me differently. Lucien's loyalty was much more black and white than mine had been. I found myself alright with my shade of grey. I wasn't going to be made to apologize for entering this bargain or in the tasks Rhysand expected of me. 


	25. Discover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

I winnowed to the Spring Court, almost darting into a bush when I saw all the people sitting on the lawns of the Spring Court manor. Their appearance gave them immediately away as Summer Court refugees from the dark brown of their skin to the array of blue tunics they wore. They reclined on the lawn, enjoying the night air. I watched a few pack up their baskets of food and return to the manor.  _ Feyre had opened up the Spring Court manor to them _ , I smiled to myself. 

I strolled through the woods, hands shoved in my pockets and observed the people quietly. I kept to the forest so I could blend with their shadows. Their soft chatter and crickets chirping filled the air. Lightning bugs blinked in and out. I had forgotten these elements of peace during my time at the war front. 

When I reached the manor, I winnowed straight into Feyre’s bedroom. The room was completely dark on the moonless night but I could see just as well in the night. No figure was sleeping in the bed. Feyre wasn’t here. 

I resented the idea of looking for her but my desire to see her safe was near overwhelming. I peered into the bond, finding her mental walls intact but I could still sense her excitement and happiness. I wanted to wait for her. I would sit on her bed or at her dressing table and wait for her to return. And then I would have to tell her the truth. 

But surprising her like that felt wrong. I wouldn’t give her this news in the middle of the night. I went to her nightstand, pulled out a piece of looseleaf that was sticking out of a book to write on. It had scribbled notes from her and after a few reads, I knew it was her practice for the letter. As I read over it, I realized she had been rewriting her letter countless times only varying her mention of Tamlin and her. Feyre debating this revealed a whole new truth to me. She was aware of the wrongness in her relationship, she knew it was painful and she was confused on what that meant. I slipped the paper back into the book, vowing not to mention it. Feeling guilty I had even seen it. 

I winnowed back to the war camp with the promise I would send her a note tomorrow, asking to meet. 


	26. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I've been waiting to write this chapter since I started this fic.. These next few chapters I am so excited for. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Our group reached my sister’s house after midnight. The Human Realm, not protected by Tamlin’s magic, was much colder in the fall night. Despite not liking the reason for wearing my gloves, I was grateful for the warmth they provided to my frozen fingers. Knowing humans were more susceptible to the temperature changes, I had a deeper appreciation for my ability to traverse the winter woods even in the most threadbare clothes. 

Aaron, assigned to nightwatch with Farrel, intercepted us before we could reach the manor. “My lord. My lady. Is something wrong?” he asked, holding my horse’s reins to steady her. 

“No, Aaron but Lady Feyre needs to speak in private with her sisters. Take Farrel and keep to the camp to give the ladies their privacy,” Lucien ordered. He stepped off his horse and led it by the reins towards the camp, taking Aaron with him. Before departing into the darkness he glanced back to me before vanishing. 

Bron clucked and urged his horse to flank mine. “My lady, should we stay with you?” he stared forward, eyes assessing shadows in the night. “I know you asked for privacy. I only ask to ensure your safety.” 

I leaned over to his horse and squeezed his hand. “Thank you Bron. You and Hart have always kept me safe. I ask for privacy again but if I need you both, I will not hesitate. I truth you both with my lives.” He finally turned to face me, meeting my eyes in what some would consider a bold gesture. I stepped away from my horse and let Bron take hold of her reins. Clucking again, they took off towards the soldier’s camp.

In the pitch black night, I found myself smoothing over my hair and dress before walking through the gardens to the house. Despite entering from the north or back of the house, I knocked on the front door trying not to completely terrify my sisters. I watched as windows illuminated with candlelight as Nesta no doubt made her way towards the door. Swinging it open, she was dressed in her nightgown with a dressing robe haphazardly draped on her shoulders. A long braid, tousled from sleep, hung down to her waist. “Feyre?” she asked. “Why are you here?” She swung open the door, ushering me in before glancing behind me to check for any onlookers. 

I stepped into the foyer, seeing Elain in a similar state of dress on the stairwell. Once she saw it was me, she rushed down the stairs and wrapped her arms around me. “Feyre are you alright?” she asked, crushing me to her. 

“Yes, I am. I need to speak with you both. It’s urgent,” I said, helping Elain disentangle herself from my body. Nesta came to stand before me with arms crossed over her chest, eyebrow arched in suspicion. “Please.” My voice lowered. 

“Very well, come to the library,” she jerked her chin and opened double wooden doors to a small and cozy space. I sat on a settee with an opulent, blue velvet cushioning. Nesta left and returned with a bed warmer, dumping the embers into the fireplace and tossing a log on top. The warmth was extremely welcome. Elain curled up besides me on the settee and Nesta took a cushioned seat by the fire. They both looked at me expectantly. Elain with thinly veiled sleepiness and Nesta with a tired suspicion. 

“King Hybern, who we fight, has an advantage over our forces. He has the Cauldron.” 

Elain gasped. “The physical Cauldron?” Nesta watched on silently. 

“Yes. It’s a real, powerful source of magic and he is going to use it against us. We have no idea when he will attack but we have to destroy that Cauldron. The only way to do so is the Book of Breathings,” Nesta shifted in her seat. “And during the War to free the human slaves five hundred years ago-”

“The Human Queens received a piece of the book,” Nesta finished. I stared dumbly at her. Glancing at her shelves, she said “I took the time to furnish my library well. That’s also not exactly a hidden piece of our history.” 

“Well, we need that piece,” I continued. Secretly, I was beginning to feel envious of my sister’s life they had built here in the Human Realm. I saw Nesta personally selecting books for her home and Elain carefully designing her garden. Their life of utter normalcy motivated me to preserve it as best I could. “The Human Queens will never give it to the fae High Lords. They know how the humans were treated before the War. They will be suspicious and think they are being tricked. And they’d never accept an invitation into the fae realm to see the damage Hybern has wrought. But they’ll believe a fae that used to be human. They’ll believe me.” 

“You want an audience with the five Human Queens?” Nesta sat, unbelieving. “How can you expect to gain that?” 

“My story is one I hope they will see value in hearing. I am working with the High Lord of the Night Court-”

“Not your High Lord?” Nesta asked. 

“He is not  _ my  _ High Lord, Nesta,” I tried to shake off the question with a laugh but Nesta’s face told me I failed. “But no, I work with High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court out of a bargain. A bargain I made to save my life when I was Under the Mountain.” Nesta’s mouth closed with a click, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. I took the fingertips of my glove and peeled off my left glove to reveal the tattoo beneath. I had so many conflicting thoughts on my bargain but when I looked at the tattoo, all I could notice was how beautiful it was. “This tattoo is a permanent symbol of the bargain.” 

My sisters leaned forward, inspecting the tattoo. “It’s gorgeous,” Elain breathed just as Nesta said, “It’s not the worst.” 

“I knew you weren’t wearing gloves because you’re a lady now,” Nesta nodded her head succinctly. 

I laughed at that. “No. Definitely not. But a part of that bargain is acting as the Ambassador to the Human Realm. Rhysand tasked me with writing a letter to them for an audience. We’ll need a place to meet them though. Neutral territory.” 

“And you want to use our home?” Nesta sighed. 

“Yes.” 

“Find another place. Haven’t we done enough?” she asked. “Are we not also risking our lives?” 

“There is no other place in the Human Realm I can go to. How many humans are going to welcome a fae court and the five Human Queens into their home?” Our debate had no heat behind it. Only tiredness. “We need this place because I have no other options. The Human Queens will not meet us past the Wall.” 

Nesta shook her head. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” I raised my eyebrows. I did not expect her to consent so quickly. 

“If it ends this war any sooner, I’d agree to lighting the manor on fire,” Nesta shook her head. “How do you think the Book will help anything?” 

“It’s supposed to have the key to controlling the Cauldron. Maybe sealing it or destroying it. We won’t know until we see it for ourselves. The Book has been a myth for five hundred years, no one knows what it contains,” I shrugged. 

“Well it better not be some ridiculous cookbook,” she scoffed, rising to her feet. “We have guest rooms for you and your red-haired lapdog,” Nesta passed me on her way to the stairs.

“How did you know Lucien came with me?” 

“Please. You hardly appear without some fae guard around you. It’d be too easy if you left that fae at home,” Nesta shrugged, walking up the stairs and closing her bedroom door. 

“I have to rest as well. Graysen will be here to take me riding tomorrow,” Elain smiled. She leaned over and kissed my cheek before scurrying up the stairs. I sat in the library for a moment longer. Breathing in the stale air. I laid on the settee a moment and stared at the ceiling. I envisioned a life where I had remained with my sisters. I had not rescued Tamlin and the struggles north of the Wall were not my concern. Though my relationship with Nesta and Elain has always been tentative, I don’t believe I’d run from them. I could have made myself a home here and maybe repaired that damaged relationship.

But then I thought of Tamlin and Lucien trapped with Amarantha. I thought of Rhysand still standing besides Amarantha on her throne. And I knew that if I had gone back to that time, I would urge my past self forward to save Tamlin anyway.  _ Go,  _ I would have said to my human self.  _ Go throw yourself into hell because you’ll come out victorious.  _

I left the manor and trekked back to the camp. Lucien, Bron and Hart were awake. Aaron and Farrel absent. The rest, blissfully asleep. “My sister said you can sleep in the manor tonight,” I said, waving for them to follow. I didn’t wait for them to come but marched back to the manor, clutching my cloak tighter. 

Bron and Hart had to sleep in the library though they offered to keep post outside my door, casting that protective barrier around my bedroom like they normally did. I shook my head and told them to get genuine rest. They could sleep outside my door when they casted the barrier but the constant, slow drain on their magic didn’t make their sleep peaceful. I gave them this chance while they were away from the Spring Court. 

Lucien and my bedrooms were adjacent to each other and without so much a wave, we disappeared into them. I kicked off my shoes. No doubt, he threw himself on the bed just as I did. The room was pitch black from the moonless night and I had no issues passing out in the dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thunder clap in the night startled me from sleep. It echoed in my ears making my head ring. The boom rolled over the hills beyond in a wave of deafening sound. The ground trembled under my feet and I heard the manor shake. I steadily rose from the bed but the tremor was so rough it threw me off balance and I hit the wall, knees drawn to my chest. My head pounded from the impact and the loud boom that still echoed. 

I lifted my groggy head, looking at the dark room before me. My eyes trailed over the bed and the armoire across from it. I tried to focus on these things to tether my mind and myself to consciousness. 

Just as it went silent another boom rocked the world beneath my feet. My head slammed against the wall again from the force. My window shattered inward from the sound. Glass spread everywhere. I held my hand out to protect my face but didn’t feel a single glass shard. I knitted my brows in confusion but the pain in my head was making me see blotches of white. I cried out from the pain that clutched me. My ears must have been bleeding from the damage of that sound. I could barely hear anything besides the ringing. My heart was pounding in my chest. I lifted my hands from my ears to see blood. 

Dull crashes echoed in my mind. The door to my right swung open and Lucien stepped in, leaning on the door for support. Still bearing the signs of sleep, he also had blood dripping from his ears and nose as well. I realized he was saying something but my ears were still ringing. I shook my head, about to speak when another shockwave went out. Except this time I could hardly hear it but instead felt it pass over me. My body felt crushed against the wall. Lifting a hand under the oppressive power was exhausting. I could no longer hold myself up. Instead, I was leaning into the ground. Sinking down until I was staring at the ceiling, hands to my side and legs sprawled. 

Lucien was kneeling besides me, breathing heavily and staring at the ground. We met each other’s eyes. Unconsciously, I synced my breathing to his. It was all we could do to combat whatever power was being held over us. I thought I heard a moan in the distance. 

When the wave of power had subsided, we laid on the floor panting. My head rang. I slowly raised a hand to the wall. My body lagged to follow the commands of my mind. Once I felt it was solid enough I could trust it, I rolled myself onto my knees. Pushing myself slowly to my feet, I leaned half my body on the wall. Blood rushed to my head and I fought the urge to pass out. I clenched my eyes shut. 

I opened them, adjusting to the dim light in the room. Following the wall around the room, I stepped over Lucien. I barely took notice of the glass cutting into my feet. My body could hardly keep up with the pain anymore. I inched myself towards the window, stubbing my feet and bumping into the furniture clumsily. When I stood before the window, the cold air of the night chilled me. I squinted against the night. 

The sky was black without a cloud in sight. Then an orange light flickered up above. Orange stars appeared and vanished from sight. As far as I could see towards the north, the sky was alive with light. Veins of orange and yellow light opened up the sky as if reality was cleaving itself in two. I partially hid myself in the window, watching as the sky brightened. I shielded my eyes from the display that threatened to blind me. 

A low rumble that shook the ground signaled the sky shattering. I dug my nails into the window frame. A single burst of yellow like an explosion shot outward from the sky, sending embers out in all directions. Then, the entire sky was consumed by brilliant streaks of red, orange, and yellow falling from the sky. Rumbling echoed the movements like an avalanche. 

“What is that?” I shouted, my hearing still deafening me. 

Lucien, who leaned tiredly on the bedframe, watched the sky with an expression of abject horror. His mechanical eye widening and narrowing to take in the sky. His jaw was agape. “The Wall,” he said back. He swallowed hard. “The Wall...Hybern just took the Wall down.” 

Without hesitation, I threw down the walls of my mental shield finding Rhysand’s presence in my mind’s eyes.  _ Rhysand,  _ I breathed. How could I say more? What would possibly communicate what happened? Or what I felt?


	27. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

Some terms I've been using and pictures to demonstrate: 

  * [Kurta:](https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.cbazaar.com%2Fmen%2Fclothing%2Fkurta-pyjamas%2Fkurta-pyjama%2Fblack-n-golden-art-silk-kurta-pyjama-p-kpmgc49&psig=AOvVaw3qqnVm3eZDbU-uPJNIzfqg&ust=1600911548081000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCJDHqLaS_usCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD) a loose collarless tunic-like shirt worn in South Asia 
  * [Deel:](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/78/66/cc78666e4ba5b8d6f9216b67a104cd71.jpg) a traditional piece of clothing worn primarily by Mongols centuries ago and other nomadic tribes 



**Rhysand:**

I had felt the first blast and thrown myself out the front of my tent to see what happened. The second blast sent me to my knees. The shockwaves kept every fae down. The booming noise had each of us clamping our hands over our sensitive ears. I was kneeling outside my tent, eyes trained on the sky and clutching my very bloody ears. I sluggishly turned my head to see Mor, bent over her knees with ears clutched tight. Azriel and Cassian were laid out besides Mor watching the night sky with pain etched into their faces. Cassian turned his head to meet my eyes. He slowly tipped his head in a half-attempted nod. 

I wanted to reach out to their minds to assure them we were all here, alive. My mind screeched at the idea. I could hardly form thoughts beyond the pain in my mind. 

Before me were the cumulative armies of the Spring, Summer, Winter and Night Courts all kneeling in the mud with eyes looking upwards. The waves of power and magic kept us all subdued. All of us, thrown from our tents to watch the end of the world. Explosions of light to the south kept us all entranced. Scattered all along the southern horizon as far as my eyes could see. Brilliant and violent bursts against the pitch black night. 

A low rumbling that picked up until it was a dull roar announced the eruption of the sky. Yellow and orange light filled the southern horizon, casting rays of light into the pitch black sky above us. It looked like fire had consumed the south until it burned it's way to the stars above. 

As the thunderous noise subsided, so did the light and magic. Breathing hard, I stumbled to my feet. I reached a hand out and clutched the pole of my tent. I opened my lungs up to their fullest capacity and forced myself to suck in air like I was drowning. I purposefully heaved my chest to get my blood flowing. To heal the damage and wipe away all the disorientation. 

A warm presence filled my mind. A soothing and soft voice whispered,  _ Rhysand.  _

I could have choked on tears for the relief her voice gave me.  _ Feyre, I’m here.  _

_ The Wall.  _ Her voice choked up. In the midst of chaos I wanted to abandon everything and go to her.  _ It fell. Hybern...he tore it down.  _

My blood was roaring in my ears. I could hardly have anticipated Hybern starting with the Wall. Him showing his power by wiping out the most powerful structure in history. After thinking it over, I realized it had been staring us in the face. Hybern destroyed the symbol of his failure during the War. Sighing,  _ It will be alright. Are you safe?  _

A pause.  _ Yes. Are you?  _

_ I am as safe as ever _ , I joked back and I could hear the tinkling of her laugh. She sounded like she was in pain.  _ I’ll come for you when I can.  _

Another pause. _Alright_ ,  she replied before I felt the mental walls close again. 

When I could walk a semi-straight line, I staggered to my court. I took the easy route and knelt before them. “Are you all alright?” I said, my voice hoarse like I had been screaming. Azriel lifted his head from the mud and looked at me with a confused stare. He dropped his head back into the mud without a word. “Are any of you injured?” I asked. I tried to clear my throat. My thoughts were racing and my body could hardly keep up. I wanted to scream in frustration as I struggled to formulate the words. 

“Rhysand,” Mor whispered. She raised herself from over her knees. Her fists clenched on top of her lap. 

“Mor are you alright?” I asked more forcefully. 

“You’re kneeling in my vomit,” she replied. 

I barely glanced down, giving a relieved laugh. I wrapped my arms around her waist, bringing her in for a tired hug. “Yeah, you guys are fine,” I said. I repeated that a couple of times to myself. Just to hear it. 

“What?” Cassian shouted. 

“Stop shouting,” Mor hissed. 

“What did you say?” Cassian shouted again. 

“The shockwave must have taken out all the Illyrian’s hearing,” I reasoned. Cassian was about to shout again but I flung a hand out to stop him. Cassian squinted, staring at me in a haze. “They’ll take a bit longer.”

“What was that?” Mor asked, leaning her head on my chest. 

I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the explosions. “The Cauldron.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took under half an hour after the last explosion for most of the war camp to regain their functions. The fae’s hearing returned almost instantly but it took a minute or two for the Illyrian’s to regain their ears so a lot of shouting was heard in the beginning. After checking for any casualties, all the High Lords and their advisors crammed into High Lord Tarquin’s war tent. All except Tamlin. The sting of jealousy hit me that he probably winnowed to Feyre immeadiately.

All decorum was thrown away as we all still tried to reconnect our minds to our bodies. Mor, without a chair, leaned her hands on my chair to steady herself. Her blonde hair dangling over my head. Cassian and Azriel stood behind her, barely upright after regaining their hearing. 

“Rhysand...I believe you have your answer,” Tarquin said. His nose had bled violently and half his tunic was spattered. His white hair was partially dyed from the blood coming from his ears. Kallias appeared even worse. His pale skin a sharp contrast to the violent crimson staining his ears and the fabric of his ice blue deel. His one eye was red from a burst vessel that slowly was repairing itself. “Hybern has finally used the Cauldron.” 

The relief at finally knowing Hybern’s end game was nothing compared to the horror of it’s actualization. I nodded just barely. 

The tent flaps open and people were shoved aside. Tamlin stood in the doorway looking much similar to the rest of us. But in his eyes wasn’t pain but rage. To my terror, I thought he came to deliver knews of Feyre. I straightened reflexively. Magic filled the air with his near shift into his True Form. “Hybern…” he bared his teeth and I could see his fangs more prominently as he struggled to keep collected. “Hybern landed on...West Maritch, a city on the western shore and...and he used it to bring down the Wall.” 

The room was dead silent. No one dared breathe. 

“Hybern holds the city as we speak.” 

The room erupted into motion. “An army is too slow. We need to get there first,” I rose to my feet. “I, and my court, will winnow with you to West Maritch.” It was the first chance to see what we were dealing with. We would know the size of Hybern’s might. We would see the Cauldron and confirm the nightmare he’d dammed us to. 

Tamlin and I locked eyes. His nostrils flared as he assessed me. Whatever beast Tamlin had been close to shifting into earlier was examining me now. “Fine. Be ready in ten minutes,” he growled and left the tent behind. 

“Should we march on the Spring Court then?” Kallias asked tiredly. Vivienne laid a hand on her mate’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Her long white hair looked to be dipped in blood. 

“Not yet,” I answered. “We don’t know what the situation in the Spring Court is. Wait till we return.” 

“Rhysand, I know you to be an extremely gifted soldier but even you cannot take on Hybern’s entire army and the holy Cauldron itself,” Tarquin sighed. 

“I do not intend to die tonight, Tarquin. But we need to know what we are facing. If we can expect anymore brilliant displays like tonight,” I fluttered my hand in the air, mimicking the brilliant colors of light from the Wall falling. I ran a hand through my hair, still in awe that the Wall had truly fallen. “When we return, we will know what to do.” 

“I will go with you,” Kallias said. Vivienne sucked in a breath. “Tarquin, you should remain. This is your Court.” 

“I appreciate the intent, Kallias, but West Maritch is a coastal city and Hybern tends to favor fire’s destruction. You’ll need me,” Tarquin said. “I will take Varian. Cresseida will remain.” The siblings met each other’s eyes. 

“I should go as well,” Vivienne said. 

Kallias reached a hand back to pat hers. “No, my strong-willed mate. I need you to stay for our people.” 

“You won’t leave me again,” she bit back, her eyes red and teary. 

“I will not leave you ever,” Kallias pressed his lips to her hand on his shoulder. My eyes glazed at the display, imagining a different life. I thought of Feyre and her quiet voice. I wanted her with me. I didn’t want to take another step if I didn’t know she was safe but life was moving too fast. I needed to act and it killed me my path wasn't taking me to her. 

I left the tent with my court in tow, leading to my tent where I didn’t bother with throwing a barrier up. Barely anyone who could hear would want to with the damned ringing in our ears. “When can the Illyrian’s fly?” I asked Cassian. 

“They’re injured, Rhys. I’d say earliest by morning,” Cassian rubbed his eyes. 

I bowed my head. It would take them time to fly to the Spring Court. At best, they would be able to help by tomorrow afternoon. And they would be exhausted. “Alright. Tomorrow morning I will tell you when to-” 

“No. I am coming with you,” Cassian shook his head. 

“An hour ago you could hardly stand straight,” I replied. “You need to rest just as much as Azriel does.” My shadowsinger sat slumped at my desk. “You both will come when the rest of the Illyrians do. I’ll need you to lead them as their General.” As I talked, I pulled on my armor. 

“I’ll go then,” Mor replied. 

“No. When Cassian and Azriel leave, I need someone here.” About to argue, I spun on them, “I need someone here when I am not.”

“You can’t leave us behind like this,” Cassian argued. “You pulled the same shit before and you  _ vanished  _ for fifty years,” he shouted. “I’m not letting you walk like a drunk bastard into the Spring Court without one of us by your side. I am coming with you whether you want me to or not. Azriel can lead the Illyrians since he’s useless to us all right now,” Cassian pointed a finger to where Azriel barely kept conscious at my desk.

We stared at each other for a moment before I shook my head. “Fine but when I say you stay behind, you will listen.” 

“Like I always do,” he grinned. I huffed but let him follow me to where the rest of the fae assembled. And then we winnowed halfway across the continent into Hybern’s army. 


	28. Flee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that the reason these chapters are being posted late is that I keep deleting and rewriting them. Enjoy :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

For the chill night, my body had gone from ice to a breathing inferno. Sweat clung to my back and chafed at my thighs and armpits. I wiped my forehead to keep my eyes clear. In only a few moments, the air had run dry like smoke polluting the air. Instead, magic floated in the forms of pure specks of white and yellow light. My throat was dry to the point of pain. Magic, for all of it’s beautiful properties, was painful to experience. My lungs were burning and my eyes felt raw like I had kept them open for too long. Tears were streaming down Lucien and I’s cheeks while we sat. 

The fallout from the Wall crumbling had cast the entire region in shades of yellow and orange. Concentrated magic in its rawest form, I surmised. The garden and forest beyond the window was blanketed in the light like someone had littered the land with warmly colored stars. As we sat, the ringing in my ears gave way to the sound of crackling. It took me several long moments to realize that was the sound of the magic blinking out of existence. A  _ pop _ or  _ crack  _ and then the magic vanished. 

Finally, I could hear softer noises like the gentle sobs coming from down the hall. “My sisters,” I croaked, edging around Lucien to the door. Once again, the glass on my feet barely registered. The magic in the air made my skin feel like it was on fire. The glass was inconsequential. I tenderly opened the door to the first bedroom to my left. 

To my complete surprise, Nesta and Elain were crouched together on the floor dressed only in their nightgowns. Nesta wrapped her body around Elain’s crumpled form on the floor. Both of them laid barely moving. Only the quick pants of their breaths telling me they were alive. And then Elain shuddered again and I fell to my knees before them. “Tell me what hurts.” I reached out a hand but Elain whimpered, her hands clutched on her ears. “Please,” I lightly touched Nesta’s shoulder but her eyes only flicked open, looking at me from the floor.

Nesta only shook her head. I pushed Nesta’s hair away from her ears to see a pool of blood held by the shape of her ear. “They can’t hear me,” I whispered, knowing Lucien stood over me. “My sisters...they are deaf.” They shuddered as I spoke. 

Lucien laid a hand on my shoulder. “Come, we need to get them help.” Getting them help consisted of ripping up my bedsheets and wrapping their heads. We sat them against the wall and gave them cups of water. Helping them kept me moving and if I stopped moving, I would focus on the facts I couldn't face yet. 

I found, during my hunt for the pantry, Bron and Hart sitting in a daze in the library. “My lady...are you...are you alright?” Bron nodded barely. He was leaning over his knees to stare at the floorboards. “Is Lord...is the Lord-” 

“Yes. We’re alright. Are you both well?” 

“Yes my ‘ady. Just...dizzy,” Hart replied. I thought I saw a stain beneath him looking like vomit. 

“We’re tending to my sisters. Rest, both of you,” I said, walking past them. In the pantry, I grabbed a glass jar of preserved peaches, a loaf of bread and what I thought looked like a round of cheese. I inched myself back to the bedroom and doled out the items. “Nesta, eat,” I demanded, handing her a hunk of bread I ripped off and put a chunk of cheese on. 

She glared at me from within her foggy haze. She ripped the food from my hand and chewed slowly. Elain had no qualms about dipping her bread into the peach jar and chewing a mouthful of the sweet preserve. Lucien and I took some food as well, despite it’s unappealing taste, and we all sat exhausted together. I tried cataloging what hurt but I lost track after listing so much of myself. I considered myself lucky that my body could heal so quickly. Elain and Nesta looked to be half-conscious. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Lucien finally said. My mind had cleared significantly since the first shockwave but with how disorienting the night had become, I felt like I was permanently behind. That my mind was registering moments after they had already happened. Nesta and Elain merely watched Lucien speak like they had never met him before. They barely were conscious with half-lidded gazes. 

“We need to rest, Lucien.” 

“If Hybern brought down the Wall...he is marching on the human lands,” Lucien turned to look at me. “If we stay here, we will be trapped by his army soon enough. Hybern would relish the opportunity to get his hands on you, Feyre.” Lucien’s eyes were shining. He barely spoke the words more than spat them. Hybern would wish to punish me for defeating Amarantha. 

I looked at my sisters. Nesta’s arm draped protectively over Elain’s shoulder. Elain’s hand on Nesta’s thigh. There would be more people like us, trying to recover and blissfully unaware of the army that marched on their quiet towns. “We can’t leave the humans here.” 

Lucien’s hand patted mine on the floor. With an intensity I thought Lucien avoided, he said, “We cannot save everyone Feyre.” 

“We can try,” I fired back. I sucked in a breath and my rib cage ached from the effort. I hoisted myself to my feet. The blood rushed to my head and I leaned on the wall to keep from collapsing. “I’ll take Bron and Hart and we will get as many people as we can…” 

“And do what, Feyre?” Lucien squinted. 

“March north,” I replied easily. I had to be confident. There was no backing down. “If we move now, we can at least make it into the north of the Spring Court.” 

“Feyre you can’t try to save-” 

“There is nothing you can say Lucien,” I snapped. “When we welcomed the Summer Court refugees, I knew that for everyone that made it there were ten times as many who were ash and rubble. But those people survived and that is what matters. I’m going to try and you won’t talk me out of it,” my chest was heaving with effort. I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. 

Lucien closed his jaw with an audible  _ click.  _ He set his lips in a fine line, a mark of his stubbornness. “Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll come with you.” I was already shaking my head. Lucien rose up to meet me. My sisters remained seated, staring vacantly. “I have a duty to uphold. I need to protect you.” 

“I need you to protect my sisters." All I could think about was how tired Nesta and Elain looked. If the rest of the humans were like them, I would need to focus on one or the other. If I had both, I’d tear myself in two trying to protect both of them. I valued my sisters the same as I valued the humans I’d try and protect. It was terrible and selfish but it was the truth. They had carved out a life in this new home for themselves. With everything I had, I needed to protect that for them. 

Lucien’s brows furrowed. Not the answer he was expecting. He glanced towards them, “Feyre I can’t leave you-” 

“Yes you can,” I nodded vigorously. Everything depended on him agreeing and my heart was threatening to burst if he didn’t. I pulled on his strange attachment to them.

“No-”

My hand grabbed his and squeezed hard. “You leave with my sisters now and you ride to the Spring Court. Take everyone there and bring them to the war camps. With only you and my sisters, you can get there faster than in a group. That way, I know you are safe.” He opened his mouth to object and I beat him to it, throwing everything I had into my voice. Desperation was an awful motivator. “We can save both the people at home and the humans here but we can only do it if we split up Lucien. Please you have to trust me. I’m not helpless. We have the chance to save these people but only if you  _ trust me _ ,” I pleaded.

Lucien was staring at my sisters. “Fine,” he gave in. His shoulders sank. Lucien’s sense of loyalty tearing him apart from the inside. “But you take Aaron and you send Juniper the moment you’re safe,” he demanded. “And you take Bron and Hart. And the whole guard.” 

I would have agreed to rebuild the Wall with blades of grass if it got Lucien on a horse with my sisters. I laughed hollowly. “Of course.”

“I’ll get their horses ready,” Lucien said. He looked reluctant to leave them and I laughed, noticing how his new duty already was causing him trouble. There was a tenderness he had towards them that I had yet to fully understand. 

When he was gone, I turned back to my sisters. “We need to get you guys into warmer wear,” I said. I helped them onto their feet and they swayed, waiting for instruction. I attempted to put a corset on either but the ties got tricky so I packed the corsets into their bag and hoped neither would hate me in the morning. I tore out their closets and picked the warmest dress they had: a long sleeved dress made of a dyed wool. The ties on their dresses started at their navel. The moment I was helping them into their dresses, Nesta gained consciousness, helping to tie her own dress on while I helped Elain. 

Nesta scared me when she spoke. “You’ll be safe?” she stated rather than asked, her eyes trained on her bodice. Her voice was muted. Low and hoarse. 

“I will be safe,” I agreed to her demand, pulling Elain’s cloak around her shoulders. Nesta looked like she wanted to argue and strangely, I felt relief. But she never was given the chance as Lucien came back up the stairs. 

It took the pair of us to help my sister’s out of the house. Lucien was forced to carry Elain and Nesta, stubborn as usual, demanded she could walk to her own horse. But I kept an arm around her waist while she stumbled her way to the door. 

Outside, all five guards, Bron and Hart waited with our saddled and readied horses. All soldiers would remain with me to gather any humans we could find. Lucien would take Elain and Nesta to the Spring Court, get the people there, and then travel to the war camp. Once I had cleared the Wall and was safe from Hybern, I would send Aaron’s red-tailed hawk, Juniper, to let Lucien know. 

Shepard and Sherwood attempted with as much delicacy as possible to get Elain on her own horse but it was a lost cause. She could hardly sit straight on her own. Nesta was near falling off her own horse so we placed her on Lucien’s instead. Lucien stepped up behind her, trying and failing to encourage her to sit upright. Instead, she leaned backwards into Lucien, head tilted skyward with vacant and tired eyes. I winced when I looked back to her ears that steadily weeped blood. I could tell Nesta wanted to object but she was consumed by her own set of problems. “You’ll not wait till the last minute Feyre,” Lucien confirmed. 

“I won’t. We’ll each cover as much ground as we can in an hour and take who we can with us,” I parroted but I knew that it was much easier said than done. 

“Liar,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll try, Lucien,” I soothed his worries as best I could but the plan was moving forward. We’d be meeting the dawn separately. Lucien accepted this, biting his lip. “I’ll see you soon, Lucien,” our eyes connected and I watched him turn to ride north. 

Just as Lucien’s hands were about to snap the reins of his horse, Elain grabbed his wrist. “Wait!” she shouted. In the quiet night, this was doubly alarming. 

“What is it?” I rushed to her. 

She leaned so far over she almost fell off the horse. Lucien’s arm barring her from doing so, a panicked expression crossing his face. “Graysen,” she said his name like a confession, shouting it to me. “You need to save him.” I bobbed my head in numb acceptance as I watched my sister shout her betrothed’s name like it would help protect him. Elain was quickly falling apart, tears leaking. “Promise me you’ll save him,” she demanded. Her voice was the loudest I’ve ever heard it. I couldn’t tell if it was from her panic or deafness. 

“I will try, Elain-” 

“No Feyre! Promise!” she shouted. “His home is due south with the largest stone walls you’d ever seen. You can’t  _ possibly  _ miss it!” 

“I promise,” Elain’s face relaxed. Even as I said the words, I knew they would have to be a lie. Graysen would never consent to being saved by a fae.  _ Well he has to now,  _ I thought as Elain’s hand slipped from mine when Lucien snapped the reins.  _ Even if I have to knock him out to do so.  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We rode out in all directions to get as many humans to safety as possible. The instructions were clear. Ride as far as you could for an hour, convince as many humans to follow you and lead them back to the supply drop off. Though the sky was now pitch black without magic polluting the air, I felt the need to check for dawn approaching as I rode. 

I rode south as Elain had instructed. It must have been at least twenty leagues south of my sister’s home that I first came upon a village. It was dead silent in the town. I had expected chaos. People crying in the streets, fleeing or wreaking havoc. Instead, I barely heard anything besides the wind. The town looked hardly touched by the Wall falling. No broken glass or caved-in roofs. 

I stepped from my horse and walked into the first home I saw. A fire had burned down to the embers, casting everything in a hazy glow. “Hello?” I called. A moan replied. Not caring that I was walking my horse through a house, I rushed through a doorway covered by a heavy blanket. A couple was laying in bed appearing in a similar state that my sisters did. One of them opened their eyes wide in terror at the sight of me but only moaned lowly. I rushed to their bedside and he retreated away. “I’m not here to hurt you,” I assured him. “I’m here to warn you. There is an army coming. You need to move or you will die,” I told him. He watched me with fear, breathing harshly. The woman had inched almost to the edge of the bed opposite of me. 

“You fae are always playing tricks,” he ground out. 

“No, I’m not tricking you. The Wall...it came down. There  _ is  _ an army,” I told him, shaking my head violently at the accusation. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d leave you in your bed and let them come and kill you,” I said. “Please...please believe me.” 

“You are a stranger, fae. Leave my home. I’ll not be tricked,” he hissed lowly. 

Tears were streaming down my cheeks unbidden. “I am not a stranger. My name is Feyre Archeron. I am the youngest sister of Nesta and Elain Archeron. I used to live maybe twenty five leagues north from here. I  _ am  _ fae but I will not hurt you,” I pleaded softly, begging the Cauldron that this man believe me.  _ Please let this not be in vain.  _

He studied me quietly. I could see it in his eyes when he saw the family resemblance between Elain and I. Or perhaps Nesta and I. “Elain is the betrothed of Lord Nolan’s son,” he said in surprise. 

“I am her sister,” I cried out. “I used to be human,” I provided at the first of his suspicions. I was weakening quickly. I had made a grave mistake sending Elain and Nesta away. They were perhaps the only people I knew who could convince these humans we meant no harm. For all these people would see were fae. “Please, you have to believe me. Their army is  _ coming _ .” 

“I have your word on your fae life that you are Feyre Archeron, younger sister of Elain Archeron?” he asked. “No lying or I’ll know,” he added hastily. I nodded vigorously, wiping the tears away. Hesitation was written across the man’s face but he nodded. “Fine. The way you put it, I’d be dead either way. If I stay, this army gets me. If I go, you might just get me. I’ll take my chances with you then,” he shook his head. 

“You have to help me convince the others,” I pleaded once more. I looked to his blood-stained ears and knew he was in no condition to do so but I asked anyway. “They’ll never believe me and we don’t have the time.” He huffed out, rising from the bed. He looked at me like he still wasn’t sure if I was real or not. I must have looked like quite the paradox. I was dressed in the Spring Court’s finest but thoroughly disheveled from sleep and the blood staining my dress. I had checked my sister’s closets for anything close to what Rhysand trained me in but their damned modesty prevented me from slipping into any pants. Or anything practical. “Anna, pack us food and clothes. I need to go see about rousing the town. Lord Nolan won’t be pleased,” he sighed, stumbling past me and out the door. He gave my horse a solid onceover before rubbing his eyes again, checking if the horse was still there. 

“Please. This is not a dream,” I reasoned from behind him. 

He barked out a hoarse laugh. “I know this isn’t a dream. It’s more a nightmare that keeps getting stranger,” he said, shrugging on his cloak. 

We worked in tandem after that. He entered the other’s homes, explained and then sent the humans packing towards me. Once they saw a fae in the center of their town, they were quick to sling accusations of witchcraft. So thoroughly convinced I had put a spell on all their minds to prevent them from seeing my true, uglier nature. I had half a mind to slap some of them for the insults they flung but stayed still. He claimed he had me in a bargain where I could not tell a lie. 

I didn’t try to correct him. I needed all the luck I could get. 

The last home I entered was Graysen’s. Elain was correct about the stone walls. They were nearly the height of the tree tops. A large, iron gate blocking the entrance. The man I had made a reluctant partner with, Ned as I came to know him, walked with me to the entrance. Guards were posted but Ned motioned they stay back as we entered. I kept my hood drawn up, hoping my fae heritage wouldn’t be noticed.

In every other home, I let Ned wake and explain to the humans what was going on. But when we entered Lord Nolan’s home, Ned only woke them. When they were sufficiently roused, he excused himself from the house with a nervous look at the door. He shuffled across the yard until he was standing just behind me.  _ Coward _ , I huffed, resenting how my heart started beating faster at the anticipation. 

I stood in the center of the yard, fidgeting with my hands. The door echoed with how hard it was tossed open. A man, too old to be Elain’s betrothed I hoped, stepped out in a heavy dressing robe. He held a crossbow aimed at my chest. “Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now, fae,” he spat, eyes trained on my heart. I could feel the shock of the guards as they assessed me with new eyes.

I had laughed at Elain’s iron engagement ring and the false threat it posed. I was not laughing now at the ash arrow aimed at my heart. 

With the other humans, I had bowed my head and pleaded. I had cried. Begged. Done everything in my power to make myself small to convince them. Standing in front of Lord Nolan, I refused to cower. I pulled my hood down and stood tall, lifting my chin. I summoned all my courage and stared him down the barrel of the ash arrow. “I am Feyre Archeron.” A flicker of recognition. “I am the younger sister of Elain Archeron. I was turned fae.” 

“How?” he demanded, adjusting the crossbow. His fingers on the release. 

“It matters not,” I snapped back. “An army approaches as we speak. You need to assemble your house and belongings and follow me or you will die.” 

“I’ll die if I follow you fae,” he replied. A figure stepped out behind Lord Nolan and I knew from the softness on his face,  _ this must be Elain’s betrothed. Graysen.  _ He was solidly built like his father with the same brown eyes and hair. But he was infinitely more gentle looking. 

“Are you truly Elain’s younger sister?” Graysen asked. 

“Aye, she is, my Lord,” Ned piped up from behind me. “I got her in a truth bargain.” I cringed at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“Where is Elain?” Graysen asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Safe. She’s riding north to safety. I would not risk the lives of my sisters,” I stated. Lord Nolan looked unconvinced. Graysen, and Cauldron bless Elain for choosing this man, looked to be contemplating my words. “She asked me to return for you,” I threw all my bets in. “She did not want to leave without you.” 

“Then I must go to her,” he nodded firmly. 

“This is a fae trick, son. You must be stronger,” Lord Nolan replied. Graysen’s hand shot out to his father’s arm but Lord Nolan shook it off. “He’s under her spell,” he shouted. “Seize the fae!” he cried out. 

A human guard came up to me with iron shackles dangling from his hands. I knew I had Rhysand’s dagger. I could have this man bleeding out within moments but it would get me nowhere. I lunged and grabbed the shackles, tossing them away before the guard could react with my fae-enhanced speed. Lord Nolan cried out and fired the ash arrow. Pain shot up my side and I landed on my knee, holding my waist. The initial impact hurt but the resulting sting was all-consuming. 

“Father,” Graysen shouted. “Even if she lies, she has Elain. I must go to her.” 

“No," I shouted. My voice was strained with effort. Graysen's head snapped towards me. "The army is coming. Get your entire house together. We need to leave.” I focused on my breathing, trying to manage the pain emanating from my side. The arrow had passed clean through but the area felt like it had been torn open. Flayed. “Ned...get my horse,” I gasped from another wave of pain. 

It was definitely past the hour. I needed to move or we’d be trapped. I thought of Hybern and panic flooded my body.  _ I would not be taken alive _ , I vowed. I refused to be a prisoner again. 

Ned led my horse past the gates and I stumbled to her side, clutching the saddle. My arms were holding my body upright. I pulled with all my strength until I had managed one leg over the saddle. I leaned heavily on her neck, panting. I hardened all my emotions in the face of imminent failure. I would handle this. “You have ten minutes and we leave without you,” I met Graysen’s eyes and hardened mine. I wove steel through every word I could, “And if you remain behind, ash arrows will not protect you from the hell that awaits you.” I urged my horse out of the gates, favoring my injured side. 

In all truth, I did not know what I would do if Graysen ultimately refused to follow. I briefly thought I’d go knock out the entire family but my side was causing me to see stars. I was helpless if he chose to stay. 

But in just five, Graysen, his family and what appeared to be their house staff met my group of villagers in the center of town. I was too exhausted to feel anything but impatience. Some of them had horses packed with belongings and others had nothing but a pack slung over their shoulders. Looking over their terrified faces, I breathed out slowly. “No speaking until we cross...until we reach the Spring Court,” I ordered, hand clutching my weeping side. All whispers hushed. I clucked my tongue and guided my horse north. 


	29. Ensnare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There are descriptions in this chapter that are gory and might be disturbing to some readers, please read with discretion. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

West Maritch was quiet except for the lapping waves and ocean breeze. Log houses with dark windows were the only audience when our group winnowed in. We stood on the beach, assessing the quiet city. Rows and rows of houses that crowded the hillside were all dark. It was peaceful looking in the night with vine overgrowths covering their roofs and willow trees swaying in the wind. Small gardens dotting the land as well. I almost wanted to pretend that the city was unharmed. 

Hybern had left the Summer Court in ruins.  _ He would not have spared this city from the same fate _ , I reasoned. But even from the beach with the salt and sea in the air, I could smell the iron coating the wind. This city was no more alive than the rubble of Adriata was. 

Instead, the city now stared at us ominously. There was no life here. The telltale glimmer of the Wall in the south was gone. Just the forest of the Human Realm and villages beyond. Empty air in the south never looked so alarming. I thought I could smell smoke in the air but I couldn’t find any evidence of fire here.

My eyes assessed every window and door. I looked for Hybern’s soldiers. His flags or symbols and came up with nothing. I refused to believe he had already vanished from West Maritch. He could not have brought down the Wall from here less than an hour ago and already had vacated the city. Not without leaving the city untouched and I knew this city was dead. Even without the stench of blood, Tamlin’s face was enough confirmation. 

“I do not sense the magic of the Cauldron,” Tarquin said, breaking the deadly silence. 

“What makes you think you would?” Kallias asked, narrowing his eyes at Tarquin. 

“I’d hope I would not be so deprived of my senses to miss the most magical artifact in the history of this world, Kallias,” Tarquin glared back. “They have hidden it from us if it is here.” 

“They must be,” Tamlin growled, already brandishing his sword. His gauntlet clenched so tightly I could hear the steel and leather scraping. “They just slaughtered this city and brought down the Wall. Where else could they have gone?” His face looked half-feral. 

“They could be marching on the Human Realm,” I said with an even voice. The last I wanted was to turn my should-be allies into enemies. Not when Hybern was close. 

“Then they are close enough to kill,” Tamlin replied and strode ahead of us into the heart of West Maritch. Tarquin and Kallias followed. Cassian and I held up the rear. Cassian’s ears twitched while his eyes darted back and forth. He had both his swords out in his leather-wrapped hands. He could sense what I did as well: deception. 

We walked up a wide cobble-stoned street lined with shops and homes. Each window was dark. I pushed my night vision to it’s limits to analyze every shadow I saw. Every breeze I pulled from the scents I could. The quiet was our worst enemy. All we could hear was the tread of our boots and the rush of our breaths. I stretched and pushed all my abilities. Frustration ate away at my patience as we walked without any resolution. Even as I worked to clear my mind all my senses were frayed from the Wall falling. Cassian had been right. I was weakened. 

I knew we were not alone. I could feel eyes on me and it drove me to insanity that I could not point out where they were. I felt the presence of people, hundreds by the feel of it, all around me and yet when I turned to look there was nothing. “Cassian,” I said. I didn’t even need to wait for his attention. He was as attuned to his environment as I was. “Can you fly?” He nodded, eyes glancing to his right. “Tell me what we are walking into,” I ordered. He backed away from the group and extended his wings towards the sky, towering over our group. With a powerful thrust, he launched himself upwards in a blaze of black and red. I watched him fly into the cloudless night until I could barely discern him from the night sky. 

We continued onward. 

We came upon the city square with a fountain in the center. Standing at the entrance, we all circled around each other. “This does not make any sense. Where could they have gone?” Kallias rubbed his jaw, looking at the empty windows. 

“This is not the first time Hybern has vanished an entire town,” I reasoned. “He had the Cauldron with him. Perhaps this is all that is left,” even as I spoke, I knew I barely believed it myself. If he used the Cauldron on the Wall from this city, we would be seeing evidence. Windows shattered and homes collapsed from the shockwaves of the fall. The air crackled from the magic of the Wall coming down but this city showed no signs of the Cauldron. This city was simply gone. Hybern’s control of the Cauldron could not have been that extensive to prevent this land from turning to debris after using the Cauldron so forcefully. He must have had it positioned somewhere else in the city or employed fae to keep the city upright. Even as I thought through the possibilities, I knew they weren't aligned with Hybern’s known methods. 

I walked from the High Lords towards the dark homes lining the square. My senses were so far behind. The more I tried to organize my mind the less aware I felt. I knew the truth was staring back at me. I had yet to see it. 

“Hybern is not here. We came here for naught,” Tarquin sighed regretfully. 

“I received word from soldier’s posted just north right after the Wall fell. Hybern  _ was  _ here,” Tamlin responded. 

I continued towards the homes. “Why are all the doors closed?” I asked no one in particular. Each home had dark windows and closed doors. Giving the distinct impression if I knocked, someone would answer. 

Tamlin ignored my question and continued pressing his case. “He is here. He has the Cauldron and he is just hiding. We know he’s just as cowardly as Amarantha. Playing tricks instead of facing us head on.” 

I was staring at the dark windows, squinting through their glasses. “If you attack a city, do you bother to close the doors behind you?” I voiced. 

“Hybern must have used the Cauldron, Rhysand. He can  _ vanish  _ an entire city for Cauldron’s sake,” Tarquin shook his head. “We need to leave.” 

“Hybern  _ is _ playing a trick on us right now. Wasting our efforts here when he is obviously off destroying the Human Realm. Currently laughing at us,” Kallias sighed. I leaned into the window of the closest home. I could barely discern the furniture inside on the moonless night. It appeared empty as well. Hybern was playing the greatest magician’s trick there ever was right before our eyes. 

“No. Hybern is here. He just attacked and destroyed this city,” Tamlin refused. My eyes fell to a dark object that was too round to be furniture.  _ Most likely a body _ , I thought belatedly and disappointment was once again fresh inside me. “Come out you coward!” Tamlin roared into the night with his fangs bared. I shook my head at his display and looked back to the window. 

“We should return to the camps. Staying here is likely to increase our chances of walking into one of Hyberns  _ tricks _ . Rhysand, what do you say?” Tarquin asked. 

As my eyes finally focused and analyzed the object before me, horror sank quick in my gut. My mind struggled to process what I was seeing fast enough. What it meant. A body was laid out on the floor. But this body’s skin had turned grey and purple with bloat. Eyes were sunken in and weeping white fluid onto the floor. The cheek tissue had decayed, allowing the mouth to fall open and reveal a black tongue. A piece of the abdomen was missing from rats eating away at the corpse. I could see the upper intestine half dragged across the floor. This body had rotted. “All of you, to me,” I commanded, circling to the door. My voice, as deadly serious as it was, allowed for no objections. All three High Lords were upon me in an instant. 

My hand tightened on the door handle and I turned it, hearing a click that set my teeth on edge. In the back of my mind I could hear Cassian roaring my name. Shouting instructions to me from the sky but I pressed on the door anyway, needing confirmation of my suspicions, and it swung open before me with an audible creak. Our eyes trained on the contraption in front of us. Several subsequent clicks sounded before a much louder boom shook the buildings around us and a fine powder burst into the air. And then I was struggling to breathe as faebane clouded my lungs. 

We staggered from the house with the overwhelming pain from the faebane clouding our senses. But all I could smell in my lungs was the stench of rot. Rot that had taken several days for bodies to decompose so thoroughly. The truth had been before us the entire time: Hybern had been here. Several days ago. We were just discovering the graveyard he had left for us. 

_ He had already invaded the Spring Court without leaving a trace. Marched his army inland and brought down the Wall without so much as a resistance.  _ I landed on my knees in the square. The impact jolted me. My back bowed as I tried to gulp down air. The door to my magic was closed off instantly, leaving me trapped in my weakened body. All my seeking tendrils of night I had casted to feed me details beyond my body were cut off from me. I rolled onto my back, panting hard. If I was to die from this much faebane, I surmised, my last view would be of the night sky if it couldn’t be Feyre. 

And with the faebane corrupting my body, I couldn’t even reach her to tell her the truth. 

_ This was where all his troops were,  _ I thought bitterly through strained breaths. The battle in the Summer Court was a mere ploy. Dispensable soldiers meant to distract the High Lords from his ultimate goal. Hybern had landed in West Maritch sometime ago, slaughtered the city in the dead of night, and then marched on the next city. Knowing that word of the city’s slaughter would only reach us after he had established his foothold in the Spring Court. His army would hold the Spring Court in a couple of days from now. The Human Realm wouldn’t stand a chance. Hybern had already conquered half of Prythian. 

The ground besides me shook and I knew Cassian had landed. The pounding of his footfalls before he was hovering over me, arms shaking my side. “Rhysand,” he called, worry etched in the lines of his face. “Rhysand-” he was cut off as he glanced upwards. His brown skin went white. “Oh fuck me,” he said beneath his breath, raising his swords. 

My head lolled to the side. I looked up to see a troop of Hybern’s soldiers standing at the opposite end of the square, staring right back at us.


	30. Defend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the lack of chapters today! But tomorrow, I promise, there will be more and they will be so much better. 
> 
> Also. Please be advised, gore warning on this chapter so use discretion. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

_ I could have misted them into the next world with half a thought,  _ I told myself bitterly when I reached instinctually for my magic.  _ And now I might die from a knife wound _ . 

Hybern’s soldiers were pouring into the city square from the street opposite us. Several troops of soldiers must have been lying in wait. They had kept themselves nicely hidden until one stupid High Lord wondered why the doors were closed. Why bodies weren’t littering the street. Why the bodies had time to rot when Hybern had supposedly just attacked. We had known it was a trap set by Hybern and I still insisted on walking straight into it. And now we might just die for my stupidity. My recklessness. 

Cassian rushed from my side and released himself against Hybern’s soldiers. With two blades drawn, he threw himself into their slaughter. He’d extend his wings to block the movement of the soldiers. He’d duck low, quickly snap out a wing and let it collide with the soldiers. Using all his muscle he would force the soldiers back and away from where the four of us still laid, trying to regain our footing. His wings would form his defense and his swords his offense. 

When a soldier entered the square, Cassian would block or slay them. Usually with deep wounds to their thighs or torsos. The sound of soldier’s cries and Cassian’s grunts filled my ears. He spent no time trying to get past their defenses. He charged them without any forethought, uncaring if they were able to meet his attack. No hesitation at all. Instead just the thought of killing until they were all corpses. He was buying us time and it was quickly wearing him out. 

And when they swarmed him to get past, swords raised to cut him down, he slashed his hand through the air. A brilliant flash of red light temporarily blinded me from seeing him and when I looked back, he stood before another row of bodies with a perfect cut made through their chests. Each time he used his siphons, the dark square lit up like it was on fire before being thrown back into the dark. Everyone of us more disoriented than before after being blinded. But Cassian used it sparingly. Instead, reserving his magic for his last defense when his body eventually failed him. 

I pushed myself onto my stomach, coughing and spluttering up spit and blood. I was wheezing with effort. My eyes blinked away the dark from the blood rushing into my head. But I couldn’t pass out. Not when I was paces away from Cassian, about to watch him be cut down. I could not,  _ would not _ watch that happen. 

Metal scraping on armor terrorized my mind when I turned away from the battle to the High Lords. Each groan or scream was Cassian’s. Every body thudding to the ground was Cassian. All my nightmares provided the visuals of his lifeless corpse. I moved with fearful purpose. 

Kallias’s face had gone as red as blood from the exertion as he breathed heavily, painting on his back. Tamlin was unmoving on the far side of the High Lords, face down in the dirt. Tarquin looked to be the better of us all but not by much. He was leaning against the stonewall of the fountain. His chest was rising slowly. Eyes caught in a half-lidded stare. If we had all been lesser fae, we would have died the moment the faebane entered our lungs.

“Up,” I croaked at them, angry. I’d not let Cassian die for these people. They didn’t deserve it. “Get up.” Blood coated my chin as I spoke. I raised my hands to where my shoulders were and pushed myself up from the ground. Half dragging my legs until they were underneath me and I could stumble to my feet. My balance was off from disorientation so I was leaned over, threatening to topple back to the ground. Blood dripped onto the stone of the courtyard. I spat again. One of my eyes had almost fully swollen shut. 

While the faebane burned at my lungs, I would be able to fight. Once it had circulated to my body I would be much weaker. If I could not make myself rise now I would never be able to. I stumbled over to where Tamlin laid motionless. I would force him to rise. I knew I could. My personal connection to Tamlin perhaps made me the only one who could. I knew I could taunt Kallias and Tarquin all I wanted but only Tamlin would react to me. Only he would push himself through his pain-induced trance to meet my challenge. 

I let myself fall to my knees, leaning over his prone body. I barely felt the impact of the stone on my knees. Not when my lungs were burning inside my chest. 

I spat in his ear with all my venom, “You’re weak.” I goaded him eagerly. Let his rage motivate him. “Your city fell and you’re  _ lying  _ here,” I taunted, knowing I was playing with a monster. I willingly slipped my hand between this creature’s jaws, waiting for him to bite it off. 

If it got him to his feet, I’d take whatever fallout this created. “Get up,” I ordered. 

“Shut up,” he croaked, eyes glaring straight ahead. A small pool of blood had formed beneath his mouth. A cough wracked his body. 

I heard a grunt and looked up to Cassian. My swollen eyes could barely see but I could see clearly as Cassian tore through the enemy. I would know the powerful strokes of his sword anywhere. I had watched him cut down enemies in thousands of battles, large and small. Nothing would ever compare to the dance Cassian could step to. He wove a rhythm of pure destruction and left devastation in his wake. Hybern’s soldiers, by themselves or attacking together, couldn’t overwhelm the General. Cassian wouldn’t let them. He fought without fear and so when they nicked and cut him, he didn’t falter. He’d walked with death before and it held nothing that scared him. 

I could make out Cassian's powerful form against the cowards he killed. His dark silhouette towered over them. 

“You don’t deserve to be High Lord,” I hissed, spit and blood dripping onto the stone in front of his eyes. He watched it pool before him. If Tamlin’s enemy could not goad him into a rage, then there was little left that could. So I prayed the Cauldron forgive me but I leaned down and met him head on. My half-closed, wild and purple eyes against his empty green ones. I knew he studied me in a half-awake stupor. He was in there alright. Only suppressed by the consuming pain of the faebane. “Hybern marches on your land and you’re laying down. What do you think he will do when he reaches Feyre?” I whispered low enough so I could force the words out without coughing. They came out rough as gravel. 

His eyes jerked to meet mine and his lips curled back to reveal bloody gums and teeth. 

“There you are, bastard,” I choked out, pushing myself back to my feet. Away from Tamlin. 

A roar echoed in the courtyard. It tore at my ears to hear it. Fear seized me as I looked to my General. My brother. Hybern’s soldiers had made the cowards choice and had drove a sword into Cassian’s wing. A slick black blood, glimmering like oil, dribbled from the wound onto the ground. Forced to his knee, he raised one sword to block the death blow another soldier delivered. Three more soldier’s poured behind Cassian and raised their swords, ready to hack him into pieces. Cassian kept his sword raised but his eyes met mine from around the soldier. 

My throat split open from the guttural scream I wrenched from my body. I unsheathed my sword and charged. My legs moved of their own accord, half stagger and half run to get me to Cassian’s side. I lifted my sword high above my head and sliced through the soldier’s neck with all my strength. His body yielded to my blade and I severed his head in one swing. The head tossed from the body only to bounce and roll away. The body dropped at my feet to join the others. 

Without pause, I launched myself past Cassian and hacked. No grace followed my movements. I severed their limbs and gutted their bodies without half a thought. My anger sustained me. And my fear. My lungs were burning from the poison and exertion but I paid it no mind. If I was going to die, I was not going to let them make such a clean kill of me. They’d have to pull me apart with their bare hands if they expected me to stay down. 

Cassian tucked in his wings tenderly and rejoined the fight at my side. We backed ourselves against each other; our stance was the most natural part of the night. Once again fighting alongside each other with the complete trust that my back was guarded. This was the Blood Rite all over again except Azriel wasn't here to keep us from our reckless selves. Even centuries after we completed our training, thousands of drills and spars echoed in my muscles. I didn’t need to think when my body knew. 

We tore through Hybern’s ranks together. They swarmed us. Thinking they could latch onto our bodies and force us to the ground. Cassian swung brutally and any in his path would fall. If his first swing didn’t cut them down, he’d use his second sword and drive it through their chests. When the soldiers thought to separate us, I used my sword as an axe and hacked them into submission. 

As I pulled my sword from the shoulder of one of Hybern’s, another raised his to attack. Instead, Tamlin rushed the soldier to the ground. He raised his sword and slashed through the man’s neck. And then he was up, launching himself onto another and using brute strength to crush them. He’d grab their shoulders and break the bones inside. Tamlin clutched one’s neck and pressed until blood spurted from the man’s mouth. I had momentarily forgot Tamlin was possessed with an inordinate amount of strength that went beyond his magic. That every High Lord of the Spring Court heralded from beasts. 

My distraction let one slip past my guard and I screamed out as they speared my calf. Cassian compensated by decapitating the man but I was lamed. My right leg was a deadweight. I couldn’t even feel my foot dragging on the ground. 

But whatever spirit looked over me, had pushed the Kallias and Tarquin onto their feet. They joined the fray with wild abandon. I could step back and lunge on my one good leg with them fighting alongside. All five of us faced the onslaught of Hybern’s shoulders until dawn peaked in the east. 


	31. Remain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

With a large group, traveling between the Archeron home and Spring Manor took half of the day. Between Nesta and I, we halved the time it would take. I thought I’d have to slow my pace to adjust for Nesta’s fatigue but she set her gaze ahead, snapping the reins without looking back. I had not expected either of Feyre’s sisters to ride well, or even know how to ride at all. It was my mistake as I watched Nesta mold to the saddle and gallop ahead of me. She was a natural born rider. Half-conscious, she hovered over her horse with legs bent, feet firmly planted in the stirrups and balanced perfectly over the neck of her horse. 

I quickly met the strides of her horse to lead her the rest of the way to the Spring Manor after we passed the drop off point we had exchanged supplies at. With how fast we raced, I was thankful Elain was aware enough to hold onto me. I could only imagine the ways she might slip from my grasp if my horse were to suddenly stop or change directions. My legs supported me into a slight crouch with my hands tight on the reins. Elain was good enough to hunch slightly, allowing me to lean over her shoulder so I could see without her hair flying into my eyes. 

In the beginning of the ride, I had barely noticed how close I was to her. We were racing against time and I would have thrown Elain over my shoulder if it meant we reached safety soon. Now that we had a firm lead, I took note of how invasive I had become of Elain’s personal space. I was thankful she couldn’t see the blush that warmed my cheeks when I took stock of how I was a hair’s breadth away. But one look at Elain’s tear-stained cheeks, bloody ears and puffy eyes and I knew her mind was leagues away. 

Leaving behind her betrothed to flee would be a painful awakening from her pain-induced stupor. I tried to clear my memories of fleeing the Autumn Court. How I had wanted to burn away the tears as I fled for my life. Leaving behind Jesminda’s body with my brothers who had so brutally murdered her before my eyes. The guilt was always fresh. There could never be a day where I did not come to terms with my abandonment of the woman I loved. Loads of excuses could be made for my actions. Jesminda had died and I needed to survive; but I never considered those. I left Jesminda behind because I was a coward who didn’t realize I should have died with her. 

And here I was, centuries later and leaving Feyre behind to the likely possibility of capture and enslavement by Hybern.  _ I had not changed at all _ , I thought with venom. If I reached the war camps and Feyre was captured or killed I knew I wouldn’t need Tamlin to exact punishment. The guilt would crush me finally. 

If Nesta and Elain were not with me, I would have stayed. This I know. It made me want to hand them off to some Spring Court soldier and go back. Aaron had been charged with their safe transport but Feyre had given the task to me at the last moment. She trusted me with their safety and I could hardly refuse. 

I did not realize when we crossed the Wall. Still following my instincts, I had taken the route that would have led us to the gap in the Wall where we used to cross over. So when we passed the Wall and rode on, I was delayed in realizing we could have crossed at any point. There had been no sign the Wall had ever existed. The magic that built it had been reabsorbed into the earth and looked no different. The glimmering orange and yellow flecks that had rained down in the early morning were gone and with that, every remnant of the Wall vanished. The earth looked no different. After all, everything came from the ground and eventually returned there as well. 

I hoped Elain might fall asleep but every so often, I’d hear her quiet sniffle. At least if she could sleep she would forget about leaving behind the man she loved for the moment. I contemplated different supportive words I could say to her. They all sounded cheesy or condescending. Especially coming from a fae she had no reason to trust or listen to.  _ Centuries old and none the wiser,  _ I huffed. 

Either way, I was almost positive Nesta had come to the full realization that Elain was on my horse instead of her own. She no longer rode ahead or behind but astride my horse, leading Elain’s horse with a rope to the reins. More often than not I would catch her glancing at us. Not so much catching if she felt no embarrassment at staring. Instead, she relished the opportunity to narrow her eyes at me to communicate all her silent disapproval. I had a feeling she understood that if Elain was on her own horse she would become a risk to herself. Nesta, despite her consciousness improving dramatically, still was in no condition to hold Elain to her. 

Any objection was silenced when we appeared at the Spring Court manor. Even Nesta could not keep the venom in her at the sight of the house. Alabaster stone walls covered in thick vines of rose and ivy nestled among the most verdant grass on the entire continent. Red tiled roof that matched the surrounding gardens in vibrancy. In the morning sun, the house embodied radiance. To my immense disappointment, Elain was only mildly interested in the Spring Court. Her eyes remained downcast as we rode to the front doors. 

I had many nights thought of how best to convince Feyre that Elain should see the Spring Court. I didn’t think Feyre would be difficult to sway. She most likely would have already thought about it. But the trouble was Nesta acting as both Elain’s fierce older sibling and warden as well. It seemed fate conspired to bring Elain to my home under the worst of conditions. 

One of my soldiers, Elliot, stepped away from his post at the front doors to greet me. Whatever his words, they were overshadowed by the front doors being thrown open and Alis running out. “Where is my lady?” she demanded, not finding Feyre. 

“There is much needed to be done,” I bypassed the question. “Elliot, I want everyone in the house ready to travel in less than an hour. Including the Summer Court refugees. We need to make for the war front,” I demanded. Elliot opened his mouth but I cut all questions off with a shake of my head. “Go now. We don’t have time.” 

Alis, definitely not one of my soldiers, was not daunted by my tightlipped demeanor. She hiked her dress up and stomped up to my horse. “What happened last night? First you run away with my lady and then magic exploded into-”

“Hybern brought down the Wall. We need to evacuate now Alis.” 

“Not without my lady,” she retorted, defiantly crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Feyre is off saving humans. She is  _ not  _ coming,” Nesta interrupted. Though she didn’t say anything disastrous, her tone was enough to have brought down the Wall with it’s sheer force. 

“You left my lady in the Human Realm?” Alis shrieked at me. Elain, to her credit, just stared back at Alis. 

“Feyre isn’t a halfwit so she can survive a couple of days there,” Nesta supplied. Helpful as usual. 

“Alis, please,” I sighed. “Feyre and I were forced to split. She has her guards and five competent soldiers. We need to move now.”

“You’re going to have to leave me then.” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Alis, you cannot remain here-”

“All house servants are Urisks here. We’ve all bound ourselves to the manor, my lord,” she stated. “If you know where High Lord Tamlin has kept our offerings then please say so now and we’ll flee with you.” 

My stomach sank. Urisks bound themselves to the land. When they did, they gave up little saplings called  _ offerings  _ that were magically binding. Either the saplings are returned to the Urisk or nothing. And I didn’t know where Tamlin kept them. I shook my head. Alis’s eyes saddened but her shoulders did not sink. “I shall help the house prepare for evacuation then. But will you take my nephews?” she asked. “Several other Urisks children have not made the offering yet. They can go.” 

My throat was closing. “Of course,” I nodded, feeling dumb. Was I so ineffectual all I could do for the people who severed me was to take their children away? Leave the rest to die horribly when Hybern finds the seat of the Spring Court? 

In spite of remaining behind, the Urisks did not flinch. They could disappear into the woods by the manor and Hybern would never get a hold of a single one. But he didn’t have to. If Hybern burned the manor or destroyed it, they would feel it regardless. It was what made them so attuned to house service. The house was an extension of themselves as long as they were bound to it. 

But they continued to serve even when they knew Hybern was coming for them. They packed food stores and sent their next of kin to join our group. “Alis, I will reach Tamlin as soon as I can,” I promised her when she led her two nephews on a single horse to meet me. They were young fae boys with her same wooden skin but their hair was much shorter, a thin layer of dark brown curls. They both were still in the growing phase of a fae child with chubby cheeks and round chestnut eyes. Surprisingly, they weren’t dressed in the Spring Court green like usual. They each wore the long blue skirts of the Summer Court that had been trimmed with white embroidery like sea foam. Their cloaks were a deep blue with the stitching of waves on the hems. They fit right in with the rest of the Summer Court. “He will come back for you all.” 

She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. A tinkle of laughter in her voice that was a touch too hollow. “My lord, I’ve lived a long life,” she said. “See my nephews taken care of for me.” She lifted her hand to each of the boys and they took hers, trying to hold back tears. “Now, Thales. You’re the eldest. You look after Linus. But the both of you are not going to cause trouble until my lord says it's safe,” she cautioned. Her hands were almost white from how tightly she grabbed theirs. 

They nodded fervently and when she took back her hand, they reached for her. “Auntie,” Linus cried out for her. Thales snaked a hand into his brothers, sitting in front of him on the horse that was too big for even the both of them. 

“Promise me,” she raised her eyebrows. In the light of the rising sun, her unshed tears were glimmering. 

“I promise, auntie,” Thales bit his lower lip. 

I gave Alis one last look before nudging my horse onward. I could barely sit in the saddle. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. It would be at least a day of near constant travel to get to Tamlin and by then it might be too late. I had to hope that Hybern took his time destroying the Human Realms or Tamlin would return to a massacre in his home. 


	32. Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore warning on this chapter, read with discretion.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Mor:**

Dawn had come and still no word from Rhysand. Azriel watched me pace the length of Rhysand’s tent. It could be infuriating how calm he was when everything was going to utter shit. He sat back at Rhysand’s desk, flipping truthteller in the air without so much a glance. His eyes studying some minute detail inside the tent. A blank expression plastered on his face.

“How can you remain calm?” I hissed. 

“Because someone must,” he smiled softly at me. Leave it to Azriel to deflect my anger, make a joke and still appear unconcerned. “We will hear from Rhysand soon enough,” he assured with a confident dip of his chin. Even his shadows swayed about him in a relaxed, untroubled manner. 

“No. Something is wrong. Dammit I knew we all should have gone,” I snapped back. “I am going to check with Cresseida,” I pushed through the tent flaps and huffed my way over to the Summer Court camps. 

Azriel was close on my heel. “The Princess of Adriata? What do you hope to learn?” 

“Anything of value,” I shrugged helplessly. In truth, I knew that Rhysand was one of the more honest High Lords with his inner circle. Though I hoped Tarquin would prove much different from his predecessors and have shared information with Cresseida that could somehow ease my heart back into my chest. Azriel remained silent, tailing me across the camp. However I found Cresseida in a much similar state as myself in Tarquin’s war tent. Except Varian was with her, leaning over the map with a discerning eye. “Did Tarquin tell you not to go?” I asked but my voice sounded accusing. 

He squinted at me. “I do not see how that is your concern. I obey my High Lord’s commands.” He turned to face me head on and lifted his chin, “And it is _High Lord_ Tarquin.” 

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but Cresseida interjected. “Has High Lord Rhysand sent word?” Varian, though, remained assessing of me. 

I shook my head. “No. I have not heard back yet. We had planned to speak at dawn,” I glanced to the sun already peaking over the canopy. Sweat dripped down my back that had nothing to do with the rising temperature. 

“High Lord Tarquin is more than capable in battle, I trust that-” 

Once again, Cresseida interrupted her brother. “Something is wrong then.” 

“As I was saying,” Varian replied, looking only the slightest bit miffed. 

“Four High Lords left Varian. _Four_ ,” my eyes burned when I silently added, _and Cassian_. But these people would not think to notice the High Lord’s bastard-born General. “If something had not gone wrong, High Lord Rhysand would have been in communication with his court.” 

There was the truth and the problem. If whatever the High Lords faced had made them unable to return, then what hope did we have? What action could we take? Was it a trap to make us leave our own people undefended? Or was Rhysand facing his death, wondering why we had not come to his rescue? Was he facing it alone or was he with Cassian? 

I looked to Azriel and finally saw past the calm facade. His eyes were a storm. Turbulent with the conflict and pain that only came with hard decisions. “Then we must go,” he decided. “Mor, get ready to leave. Be prepared to winnow to West Maritch before the hour.” He walked from the tent, striding towards the woods. His shadows spilled out from him making him a dark cloud against the sunlight. 

Varian reached out to Azriel, thinking better of it and dropped his hand. Instead he called after Azriel, “And who will watch over the camps?” 

Azriel’s shadows faded instantly. He paused, considering. He looked back at Varian and without any emotion said, “If we lose our High Lords then these war camps won’t survive the day. We need to move fast or that path will disappear.” Varian looked like he wanted to question Azriel’s reasoning but Azriel winnowed through his shadows out of sight. 

“We have people here,” Varian stated. “We cannot leave them unprotected.” 

“They already are. If we lose the power of four High Lords, we barely stand a chance. Especially with Hybern’s command of the Cauldron,” Cresseida placed her hand on her brother’s armor, whispering softly. Like that removed any of the horror of what we considered. Varian shook himself free of his sister’s grasp and stormed from the tent, probably to put on his armor. 

“He knows you’re right,” I sighed, hating how crestfallen Cresseida appeared at her brother’s rejection.

She locked up when I spoke. “Of course,” she defended. She turned away from me to where her breast plate was slung over the back of her chair. The Summer Court armor was corrugated to look like a seashell. Her armor had silver inlay to highlight them. Instead of having separate breastplates and pauldrons, they were permanently fixed to each other with leather straps that buckled just at the back of the shoulders and waist. Her arms reached behind her to tighten the strap but her pauldron blocked the movement. 

“Here,” I laughed lightly. “Let me get it.” 

“I can do it,” she batted my hand away. I swatted at hers back. 

“And you’ll leave your armor wide open that way,” I replied easily. My hand won out against hers and I pulled hard on the strap. 

“I can do the waist ties,” she said quickly, reaching down to her sides. I waited for her armor to block her again but she contorted enough to reach the buckle. She blew out a harsh breath from the effort though, sending a braid of white hair into the air. I was about to offer to help her with the other side but she quickly raced to tighten that buckle as well. When she had tightened the armor enough, she turned back to me. Her unnervingly bright blue eyes flickered over me. “See? I handle my own armor.”

“I can see that,” I raised my eyebrows. I backed away from the flustered princess and walked towards the Night Court’s camp. In the privacy of my own tent, I smiled at how defensive Cresseida had gotten when I offered to help. Shaking off the amusement, I focused on tightening my vambraces and greaves. The red-tinted armor glinted in the candlelight as I inspected it. One day, I would work gold into the armor like Cresseida had done with silver. 

I sheathed my sword and dirk before leaving the tent. And at the junction between the Summer and Night Court’s, Azriel stood with Amren. Cresseida and Varian were making their way to them and I ran to beat them. “Amren, what-” 

“Before you accuse me of doing something negligent, you _will_ remember why I am Rhysand’s second in command,” Amren inspected the many small silver rings she wore. She stood out at the center of the war camps. She wore a blue cropped tunic and pants that had little rubies sewn onto the trim. Her hair was glossy and straight as a pin. Silver wires coiled around her tipped ears and ended in small ruby gems. Her lips painted a deep crimson. She looked as polished as some soldier’s swords.

“I believed Rhysand’s second in command was left responsible for the safety of his people while we are at war. That makes you something else,” my words were a knife I was steadily inserting between her ribs. Instead of looking the least bit discomforted, she glanced away from her rings and grinned. Like I was only tickling her. 

“Mor,” Azriel said as Varian and Cresseida joined. I stopped all questions then. Cresseida still appeared flustered from before but Varian ignored his sister in favor of glaring daggers at Amren. He narrowed his eyes. Amren merely inclined her head. 

“Shall we?” Amren asked, the silver smoke of her eyes dancing. 

“Wait,” over the hill, Viviane stood dressed in her Winter Court deel of ice blue. 

“No, we already have two royals. I would rather save myself the headache,” Amren snipped. She held out her hand for the rest of us to take so she could winnow. 

“Not without me. Not when my mate is there with your High Lords,” Viviane shook her head defiantly. Despite Amren’s refusal, we waited for Viviane to approach. As she spoke, ice grew like a second layer of clothing over her deel. It first appeare translucent like morning dew but it quickly turned into the opaque white of ice-frozen lakes. “My mate is alive. I know this better than how to breathe. I will find him.” 

Amren assessed Viviane and offered her hand to the Lady of the Winter Court. Viviane gave the barest of smiles and touched Amren's hand hesitantly. We all reached for it and under Amren’s immense power, winnowed to West Maritch. 

My first concern was how quiet it was. No screaming of battle. _No moans of the dying_ _but the dead are also silent._

I refused to believe Rhysand was gone. Cassian was too stubborn to go too. I had seen them only a couple of hours before. They couldn’t have died. “They have to be here,” I voiced.

West Maritch was a ghost city looking oddly bright in the morning glow. I almost expected to see children rush out towards the beach. A farmstand still stood just above the beach and I pictured a farmer selling sweet fruits. 

To Viviane, Varian, and Cresseida’s credit, they did not immediately walk away to search. Instead they looked at Amren who said absently, “It's a hunt then.” Though I wanted to throttle Azriel for taking Amren from Velaris, I knew she was our best chance at finding the High Lords. She lifted her nose to the wind and sucked in the ocean air. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, “It smells of rot and faebane. Blood that sat too long. Stale.” 

My stomach roiled. “Rot? Hybern just attacked,” I questioned. She didn’t reply. Stalking ahead, she walked onto the cobbled streets and approached the first house overlooking the ocean. 

“This entire city reeks of decomposed bodies,” Amren shook her head. I tried to find what she did but could only smell salt and seaweed. “I can’t find them by scent.” 

Varian snapped to attention. “Then we need to split up. Begin search-” 

“I know the fae are limited in their abilities but I am not. Scent is not my only method of hunting,” Amren said without casting a glance in Varian’s direction. She continued her quiet assessment of the glass window. Glancing at the windows and doors. “Azriel,” she summoned, motioning at the window. Azriel stepped forward and raised his hand, shattering the glass into a million pieces. And the dam broke on our senses. The smell of corpses was pungent. Looking as if they had been embalmed, bodies littered the floor of the house. Their white and purple skin shining with condensation. Their mouths were open in a silent scream. The tongue swollen and black. “That is enough. Viviane, cover this.” 

Viviane eagerly swept her hand over the window and resealed the room with a thick wall of ice. “That rot came from several days ago. The reports were wrong.” 

“An attack of this scale would never have gone unnoticed for so long,” Varian shook his head. 

“Not unless you do it quietly. In the night and with silent means,” Amren pointed out. “The faebane and rot prevents me from discerning much but I suspect if that,” Amren gestured to the rotting corpse, “wasn’t here, I’d smell poison. Most likely the drinking water. With the overhwelming faebane in the air, I would say Hybern left traps for the High Lords."

“Then Hybern has been in the Spring Court this entire time,” Cresseida gritted her teeth, looking at the houses lining the hillside. An entire city destroyed was unthinkable but West Maritch had been annihilated and gone unnoticed for days. It’s people wiped away in a night. West Maritch wasn't the end of it. Hybern had been in the Spring Court for days at the minimum. There would be more graveyard cities. “I want to skin them all alive.” Cresseida spoke with hatred but her eyes were watery. She bit her lip until it bled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Amren demanded silence while we scoured the city. Her head tilted left and right in attempt to gather sounds from the wind. We came to a dead stop at the center of the city. The square had turned into a bloodbath. Bodies were sweltering under the sun. Stale blood attracted loads of flies that I batted at. My eyes traveled from one body to the next. All of them wore black and Rhysand or Cassian wouldn’t look too different. I gasped from the stench but stepped over the corpses, inspecting each face. My boots splashed blood. 

“They are not here,” Amren interrupted my search. “I would smell them, Mor,” she said not unkindly. I looked back through watering eyes. “I am sure,” she said. So we walked past the slaughter, waiting for Amren to make the call. 

We didn’t wait long. No further than a block from the slaughter, her head snapped to the side. “Clever High Lords. Very clever.” She jerked her chin and we followed her on a winding route through the city. One of the smaller houses she stopped in front of, assessing. With a shrug, she tore off the door. Inside and sitting on the floor were all four High Lords and Cassian. Each bleeding from some wounds in odd places. 

In the center of the room was a fae woman, decomposing. They had picked a home and hid among the dead, using it to cover up their own trails. 

Rhysand’s head lolled to look at us. He squinted at the bright sunlight filtering in. “Am I dead yet?” he asked, voice hoarse. His skin was shiny and purple with bruises. Azriel winnowed into the home, crouching before Cassian who had his head bent towards the ground. 

“No. You haven’t freed me yet,” Amren retorted. Viviane crashed through the door and launched herself at Kallias’s side. His deel was splattered in blood but he looked to be far better off then the rest. 

Rhysand mumbled and leaned his head against the wall. 

“Have any reports come in?” High Lord Tamlin spoke and startled me. I had forgotten his presence even in his own court. Just like the Autumn Court, I was unnerved by him. His green eyes lacked their vibrancy. His tan skin looked more jaundiced now. “Tell me. Have...you heard anything from the Spring Court?” he cleared his dry throat. "I need to know." 

Amren looked at the male with apathy. “No.” 

“Come,” I said, stepping before Rhysand. His left greave had a hole punctured straight through it. The pants underneath were soiled in blood. “Let’s get you home.” 

Before I could move him, his hand grabbed my bicep. “You’ve heard nothing?” he whispered, eyes expressing genuine worry. His hair was slick with grease and gore, falling into his vision. I knew he asked for Feyre. I shook my head and avoided his eyes afterwards. 


	33. Plague

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Another piece of my fae training that I had conveniently missed was glamoring. My fae guard returned with their villages in tow, all neatly glamored to believe what we told them. I had raised my eyebrow at their slightly guilty looks. Aaron, however, appeared wholly proud of the brood he had collected. I fumed over how I had missed a skill so crucial. My aching side reminded me of how helpful a glamor could have been. If that didn’t remind me, one glance at Graysen or Lord Nolan and I’d remember quickly. 

Dawn passed easily with the shuffling of our feet and hooves. Forced to the pace of a turtle, my heart was racing. Every sound in the woods required a second inspection so I could confirm that Hybern wasn’t lurking nearby. My tired mind, left to it’s own devices, gave me new fears every moment. If Hybern caught me, there were a trillion tortures he would have for me. How he would use me or use me against these people. How he’d use them against me. All of us, tools for more pain and suffering when in Hybern’s hands. 

Thoughts like that made me paranoid. I insisted on bringing up the rear though Bron and Hart equally insisted on guarding me. My eyes nervously looked at the trail we were leaving. The grass was torn up. Bushes had broken stems. Leaves and earth looked heavily trod upon by horses and people. _Hybern will find us._

“Are you alright, my lady?” Hart whispered while we traveled. 

I thought of lying but Hart was worrying for me. “We move too slowly. We leave such a large trail,” I waved a hand to the path behind us. As I did, leaves sprang to life in the breeze and settled on the muddy path. Bron, Hart and I stared at the path with alarm. 

“Did you mean to do that?” Hart was barely breathing. 

“I don’t think I did that,” I shook my head vehemently. Rhysands and Lucien’s warning echoing loudly in my mind. Eager to prove it, I swept my hands across the trail again and more leaves and branches were caught in the wind this time. I twisted around in my saddle, cursing myself. “Coincidence,” I mumbled. 

“If you say, my lady,” Bron dipped his head and kept his eyes trained ahead. 

“Though,” Hart added. Bron shot a warning glare at Hart. Bron pretended not to notice, “It would be incredibly kind of the Mother to cover our trail as we flee an army.” Bron did not even bother hiding his glare this time.

I swallowed harshly. “I know what it means. For me. My future.” 

Hart opened his mouth and Bron cut him off quickly, “We understand, my lady. We would never betray your confidence.” 

“I’m not sure it is a secret anymore. It seems...this was an expected outcome,” Lucien had looked to me that day in the kitchen. After Torfalla had said she didn’t cause the fireplace to erupt, he had immediately suspected me. Rhysand had suspected it as well without any evidence. At this rate, every High Lord was now wondering where that crumb of magic went. They would know of course and if they didn’t, they would suspect. Like Lucien and Rhysand had. If I wanted it to remain a secret, I could not afford to slip up like before. I had done so without thinking many times: in the kitchen, in the Winter Court before Rhysand and Cassian, and even just now. But what life would that be? Keeping my life secret. Always fending off suspicions. 

Brazen as always, Hart proclaimed proudly, “If that is so, my lady, then there is no reason to keep it secret. It is your magic, afterall.” Bron seemed utterly done with Hart’s not-so-subtle musings. 

I didn’t want to keep my life to be a secret. My bargain with Rhysand had been subject to the same treatment. How would I ever survive if I had to hide my magic as well? Wordlessly, I agreed with Hart. I turned in my saddle, conscious of my side-wound, and swiped my hand over the forest floor. A breeze caught the brush and scattered it behind us, hiding the tracks we left in the foliage. Despite his disapproval of Harts encouraging statements, Bron smiled boyishly at the display. 

I continued to call on this small ability as we rode. After I casted, my head would tingle slightly like the beginnings of a headache but then fade just as quickly. I suspected that if I used my ability for longer or for larger winds, I’d feel the draining effects much more acutely. 

The best part of the magic was that it distracted me. I barely noticed the time we spent walking back home. The pain in my side subsided, only weeping slightly through my dress. 

It almost made me glance over the smoke in the sky. 

When I turned in my saddle to once again cover our tracks, my jaw dropped at the clouds of smoke in the south. Several dark clouds were visible in the Human Realms. Though they were far, I knew they must have set entire towns on fire for the smoke to be visible this far north. How dark the clouds looked even leagues north as we were. 

I bit my tongue to stop myself from calling attention to the smoke. We needed to avoid panic. My heart slammed inside my rib cage. “There is smoke in the south,” I said as calmly as I could, in a hushed voice. I knew the instant every fae heard me. All straightening in their saddles and resisting the urge to look themselves. “We need to move faster without panic.” 

It was quiet for the moment. Only the birds chirping in greeting and the sway of trees. I breathed out slowly, feeling my mental walls descend. _Rhysand?_ Usually, I felt his presence in my mind similar to a hand resting on my shoulder. Though not this time. The bond I looked to that guided me to his thoughts led me a wall that was his. 

Rhysand's mental shield was warm though it kept me out. It breathed and prodded when I came near it, like it was feeling me out. Though instead of feeling unwelcome, it was like a hug after a long trip. This wall I felt at now was impenetrable dark. Nothing lived beyond it and that terrified me. I through myself into the barrier and gained no ground, rejected entirely. 

I withdrew from my mind immeadiately, biting my lip. Rhysand was not gone. But I felt so alone without him, his steady presence. 

Sherwood startled me from my pain.“Give them something to march for,” Sherwood’s voice was soft and yet, I could hear him as if he shouted. 

“I can’t promise them shelter or food,” I responded quickly. Too much bite in my voice. 

“Not so literal, my lady. Give them a leader,” Bron corrected kindly. “We will watch the rear.” 

I tamped all my anxiety down. Breathing a little quickly, I nudged my horse forward. First, slowly while I skirted around Bron to get to the side of the procession. Then quicker and I was racing towards the front. In a moment of courage or stupidity, I thrusted out my hand and let the breeze dance along the ground. Grass and flowers blew in my direction and followed the passing of my horse. It had the desired impact as gasps and sounds of awe escaped our human travelers. They followed the motion of my horse eagerly without ever glancing behind them. 

I wanted to feel the joy of using my magic so publically but my thoughts were with Rhysand.

I stayed at the front then until we reached the manor in the later part of the day. I breathed out when I barely saw any life coming from the Spring Court.  _ Lucien had made it this far _ , I comforted myself.  _ He got them all out.  _ Hybern’s army would not catch them. 

Once again, the good was overshadowed by how worried I was for Rhysand's life. For my own. I hadn't once thought Hybern would be able to touch him. Then again, I had also thought myself far away from Hybern's clutches as well. 

Shepard had been sent ahead to check on the Spring manor. Suspicion that Hybern was around the corner was threatening to eat me alive. We had traveled the majority of the way back through dense woods and foliage, keeping to the path and relatively hidden from view. Now that we had crossed the Wall and were approaching the Spring manor, all the woods peeled away to reveal rolling hills and lush gardens. Amplifying my anxiety by being so out in the open. It would take the Attor two seconds to see us from above and report back. My eyes nervously checked the skies. 

A few times, I had squinted at birds and thought of using Shepard’s bow and arrow to bring them down. Certainly if Aaron could train a hawk to fly messages to any location then Hybern can use birds to report on locations. Though Aaron assured me multiple times that trained birds were usually magically bound in some way to their owners so we would have sensed the magic. I wanted to point out that Juniper had such a small magical signature that it barely qualified as the warning signal they claimed it acted as. 

When he came back over the hill, he waved us forward down the cobble road. Our group crested the hill and the sight of the manor pulled at my heartstrings. It had been obvious the rush the occupants had been in when Lucien collected them to flee. The manor was more dishevelled than I had ever seen previous. The hills had belongings scattered and left behind, deemed unimportant to risk one’s life for.

I squinted at the chimney, noticing that a small trail of smoke still wafted into the air. “The Urisks must still be here, my lady,” Sherwood said, noting my confusion. I kept my eyes squinted. “Urisks are bound to the house, my lady. Without the saplings they offer being returned to them, the remain bound to the land. Removing them forcefully from the premise would kill them in a day or two,” he explained solemnly. 

“Why would anyone bind themselves to a place?” I spat, urging my horse forward. My fears were turning me mean. I mentally reprimanded myself. 

“Urisks come from trees my lady. They like to keep to their homes.” 

“How do I move them?” 

“High Lord Tamlin must keep their sapling offerings somewhere within the manor. Without those returned, the Urisks remain bound.” 

“And if I snap the bond between the sapling and the Urisk?” Oliver gave me a horrified glance. My abilities were not going to remain a secret despite it casting a taint over how I was perceived. No longer the innocent, blushing bride in their eyes. If they chose to see me through that light then I would accept it. I would learn to value my own opinions of myself than the people surrounding me. Saying it like that made it seem unrealistically painless and simple. 

“Akin to chopping the roots from a tree,” Sherwood said flatly. 

“Then I better find them. We have to move quickly,” I slipped from my saddle, carefully holding my injured side. “See if any supplies, horses, or shelters were left behind. I doubt it so be creative. If it can be repurposed, take it. I don’t care for formality so disregard those norms of etiquette.” I realized I had only addressed the fae soldiers traveling and not the majority of our party. I turned back to the humans, assessing their slumping shoulders and suspicious gazes. “We take a rest here,” I announced. “Wandering is  _ not  _ advised,” I let the implications hover in the air, meeting the gazes of the few humans who dared.

I strode into the manor and immediately made for the kitchen, undoubtedly the source of the smoke. The servants had not expected to be interrupted, at least not by me, as they jumped from my footsteps. They had taken what could have been their last moments and made cakes, currently icing them excessively. At least four cakes stood three layers high with at least thrice as many single-layered cakes scattered on the wooden benches. I raised an eyebrow at their priorities but couldn’t comment. I suppose I would want something just as thoughtlessly joyful to occupy my mind before I died. 

A scream echoed in the stone room. Alis threw her arms around my shoulders with a joyful cry. “You should have kept going,” I was delayed in hearing her actual sobs. She was crying into my dress. “Hybern is coming, my lady, you need to leave.” Her arms around my shoulders were stronger than I ever realized. 

“Not without finding the saplings,” my free hand awkwardly smoothed over her back. Her curly hair fluttered into my face. 

She released me like I burned her. With anguish, “No my lady. You cannot waste a moment here. Lord Lucien already-” 

“Lucien is not me,” was my only defense. I had no expectations of my ability. I could only cast an absurd amount of faith in my own natural inventiveness. Especially when death was lingering over my head. With how many Urisk’s eyes watched me with mixtures of hope and sorrow, I knew that I would have to be dragged from the manor if I failed. 

I ran from the kitchen and into Tamlin’s study. Alis followed me. “What do the saplings look like?” I asked, wincing at how that question revealed me. 

“They are seeds, my lady.” She pinched her thumb and index to show me how tiny. I tried not to cringe. If I survived the tasks Under the Mountain, I could find a seed. My faulty logic was not lost on me but I resisted the urge to dissect it further. 

I tore through Tamlin’s study in a frenzy. Anything that looked like it could hold seeds was torn apart. I tossed books to the ground, flipping pages to see if he had pressed them. Every desk drawer was opened and upheaved onto the ground. I dumped inkwells. Porcelain vases shattered before me. “Do you not have any idea where they could be?” I said, out of breath. 

More than anything, I wanted to reach down the mental bond and ask Rhysand. I did not want to be so alone. 

She shook her head. “The offering is supposed to be permanent. When we remove the seedling from our body, we become the land. Everything here feels like my magic to me,” she shrugged. 

“You remove it from your body?” I grimaced. “Is it painful?” 

“All sacrifice is painful,” she laughed. Doing something I had thought her incapable of, she unlaced the bindings of her bodice. Even with doom threatening me, I still blushed. Partially letting the bottom of her bodice separate, she revealed the wooden skin beneath. Where her bellybutton would have been was a knot, like in a tree. Unbidingly, I laid my finger over the spot feeling it’s rough edges. 

Tension eased from my shoulders. I could smell everything about the Spring Manor from the cakes in the kitchen to the fresh laundry waiting to be taken down. Even the sweat from the humans sitting outside was present. In my mind, I could envision every room within the manor like I made up the very walls. I was as much in the foyer of the mansion as I was in the gardens outside. But every place I visited, I could smell roses and earth. Roses of every color that smelled of clove, peaches, and mulled wine along. The smell of the manor was comforting but I found roses too cloying to be pleasant. 

Their smell pulled me from the sensation easily. “If they are a seed, then I believe Tamlin planted them.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamlin’s rose garden for his mother was one of his secret refuges. It was not allowed to be tended to by servants except Tamlin’s personal manservant who had been mutilated, stealing his ability to speak. It was kept within white stone walls that nearly blocked away the sun and a wrought iron gate. The only full-bodied statue of his mother was kept within the gates, nestled between the largest rose bushes. A single table and two chairs were positioned near the statue. 

Alis gasped when I pushed through the gates. Tamlin loved this private place. Even knowing it’s dedication to his mother did not change the fact that I still hated roses. 

“The saplings are within here,” I assured myself, looking over the countless rose bushes. I didn’t waste time debating Tamlin’s psychology when he placed the saplings here. He would have entrusted them to the one person he trusted without question. I dug beneath his mother’s statue through the white pebbled ground cover and into the rich dirt beneath. I knew I had guessed right when the musty earth smells mixed with roses nauseated me. My fingernails cracked as I haphazardly pulled out rocks and debris. I stroked something soft in the earth and unveiled a red velvet pouch. 

Pouring out the contents into the cup of my hand, I turned to see Alis looking terrified in the center of the garden. Her face changed dramatically when she saw what I held in my hand. It crumpled and she hiccuped. I walked up to her and tugged on her hand until she raised it to me. I looked at the different saplings. Each was a tiny seed, no bigger than an apple seed with a green little sprout coming out. My eyes kept drifting to one of the saplings and I plucked it from the rest, handing it back to Alis. She carefully accepted it with awe. Like a lock fitting with the key, she moved the bodice of her gown to push the sapling into her stomach where it remained. 

“We need to leave Alis. You should tell the others,” I said, handing her the remaining saplings. When we left the garden, I watched the sky to the south get darker with smoke. Hybern was getting closer. 


	34. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

I sat on Cassian’s bed, leaned over my knees, in the healer’s tent. The constant pressure was painful on my calf but I needed it. It kept me awake. While the faebane still clouded my body, I resisted the tiredness settling in my bones. Especially while Cassian was sleeping from the reconstruction they had done on his split wing. They had given him strong sedatives after he had reflexively expanded his healthy wing and sent a healer through the tent. He had taken nearly four doses before a wonky smile formed on his lips and he fell unconscious. 

I waited on his bed until Mor and Azriel could bring him to our own camps. The healers had given me disapproving looks but they let me sit. Both of my friends were currently reporting on the fate of West Maritch to the rest of the Night Court force commanders. I had asked them, out of a moment of weakness, to perform a task that usually fell to me. I barely could stomach the thought of more battle. 

The fear of this last one was just catching up with me. I had been in a cold sweat ever since Amren had winnowed us to camp and then returned to Velaris.  I had almost watched Cassian die and  I hated myself for it. I resented how all the power in the world could not keep my friend's from danger. 

Though faebane still weakened me, I felt no concern for my own life. They could stab me here and it could not compare to my own self-inflicted flagellation. I buried my face in my palms. 

When we had winnowed back, we were assaulted by questions and commands. Mor had fielded most of them for us. But Tamlin’s had been one I, personally, could not ignore.  _ Has anyone heard anything from the manor? Has Feyre sent word?  _ The worry woven into each of his words threatened to strangle me. 

He had directed the question to his own lords. I had turned to Azriel anyway and demanded he find out what happened to the Spring Court. That he send his fastest Illyrian warriors to report back in full how extensive the damage was. Some who witnessed my command might say that it was a placating act by the Night Court. That I wanted to repair the damage done between Tamlin and I’s court. Or that I wanted to make everyone forget my role as Amarantha’s whore. They could believe what they wanted. I hardly heard their whispers in comparison to my own fears. 

While the faebane still pumped in my system, I could not reach Feyre. I told myself she was strong and capable. My mate was still as fearless as she had been the day she hurtled the bone at Amarantha’s feet, minutes after trapping the Middengard wyrm. Although all the cunning and power my mate held did not stop Amarantha from snapping her neck. 

So I passed the night awake and sitting with Cassian while he slept. I knew that if I went to bed, all I would see in my nightmares was the light leaving her eyes. 


	35. Warn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I refused all notions of resting until we met the next dawn. My fae guards had feared it was too dark for the humans. The moon was only a sliver in the sky. I knew a human would be immersed in pitch black. 

Instead, I had sourced candles from the humans. I melted the bottoms of the wax candles and affixed them to the cantle of every saddle. Including my own, keeping Alis and I firmly towards the front of the seat. I swept my hair over to my chest as a precaution. The modest light would not draw the attention a torch would. 

I wanted to give into my soldier’s demands. My own eyes ached. I desperately wanted to wash out the wound on my side. I could hardly keep my back straight in the saddle. Even my horse was exhausted. I couldn’t give into my desires yet. I had to resist the pressure to give the humans their sleep and my guards as well. I hoped they understood. If I crumpled so easily, I would cry and never stop. We had this chance now to escape and I would not throw it away. Hybern’s soldiers, fat on the spoils of slaughter, would eagerly rest at night or spend it in revelry. I would not call for rest when the smell of their camp fire’s still permeated the wood. 

I pretended that my troubles did not exist. I ignored my worries for my sisters and for Rhysand. The fears that plagued me about Hybern’s approaching army did not exist while I remained awake. The iron vice slowly clamping on my lungs, preventing me from drawing air, could not reach me while we marched. But that did not stop me from trying at Rhysand's mental walls every so often. 

But once dawn came, I scanned the skies. The fumes from Hybern and his army weren't hovering over us anymore. I immediately called for a stop and the band of people nearly collapsed where they stood, eager for a moment of sleep.

I came off my horse and helped Alis off after. I unhooked the pouch of horse feed and when my horse finished that, I poured my waterskin into it and let her drink. I repeated the same process with myself and Alis when we sat at the base of a tree. Everything I did had a automated feel. My mind barely functioning as I went through the motions. Alis rubbed her inner thighs tenderly, chewing through the dry oats. She used her waterskin to get through the miserable meal. 

“I take it Hybern’s troops are far,” she said through a yawn. 

“How do you know?” I jumped at the chance for information. I was so tired I hadn’t even realized it odd to be asking Alis about the moves of a foreign army. 

“No, you called for a stop my lady only when you thought it was safe. Surely you have some form of measurement or are you actually relying on gut instinct?” she raised her manicured eyebrow. 

My face fell. “I’ve been watching the skies. I could see the smoke.” She sobered. “With how fast they are moving, I think they are trying to surprise the war camps,” I wondered absentmindedly. Then my lips thinned. “I need to warn him.” 

“How will you get word to High Lord Tamlin?” Alis asked quietly. I didn't correct her assumption. 

“I need to speak with Aaron,” I rose quicker than someone who had gone two days with barely any sleep had any right to. Alis’s glance at me as I marched away was crossed with pity and worry. I took the writing manual Rhysand gifted me from my pack along with some writing instruments before I wove my way through the sleeping bodies to find Aaron among them. 

Aaron, like I should have been, was also sleeping so I crouched quietly into the space besides him. The other guards slept nearby and I envied their pure exhaustion. I couldn’t have slept if I tried. I didn’t know if I wanted to sleep. I know I’d have a nightmare and I would be thrashing in public. While we ran from Hybern’s suffocating presence, my fears had to remain my own. 

I watched the sun crest the mountains in the west. The Autumn Court would not be too far off if my memory still served. The trees this far north of the Spring Court had the yellow tinges of fall. 

When my thoughts returned, I flipped open the manual to one of the emptier pages. With my inkwell balanced precariously on the edge of my page, I began to sketch. I drew out Prythian to the best of my limited knowledge. When I assessed my work, it looked like I had outlined a body. I pressed on and scribbled out the southern areas of the Human Realm where I had seen the smoke coming from. I wrote a timeline that started with my sister’s house and the Wall crumbling though I neglected to mention why I was with Elain and Nesta at the time. I tried to keep my report as concise as possible to give them the best idea of how deep Hybern had penetrated the continent. 

I touched the quill to my lip, debating writing my future plans but decided against it. If the hawk was intercepted, our best chance at survival was hoping Hybern would not be able to locate us in time before we disappeared. As I drew in landmarks on the map, I grew more hopeful. If we could make it through the next day then we would be safe from Hybern for the time being. 

I finished that letter by writing Tamlin’s name on the top left corner, folding it neatly. I delicately withdrew the letter meant for the Human Queens next. It had seemed like ages ago that I had written this when it had been just yesterday. Yesterday I sat in Tamlin’s comfortable library, signing my name for the first time. With my aching eyes, it seemed like a millenia ago. I took in the crisp letter and winced before folding it three times. On the top lip, I addressed it to Lucien. I then ripped out another page and wrote out: 

_ Lucien, _

~~_ I’m sorry for how we left things. _ ~~ _ I do not know what will happen today or tomorrow. I know we left much undone but I ask you a favor anyway.  _ _ P ~~lease give this letter~~ _ _ I entrust this letter to you knowing you will see it safely delivered. Protect Nesta and Elain. They will need your friendship.  _

_~~I need you to know~~ _ _ No matter what happens to me, I chose this for myself. My decisions are my own.  _

_ -Feyre _

I swiped the tears on my cheeks before they could fall and ruin the ink. I folded the small letter and slipped it in the folds of my letter to the Human Queens. I could not mention more without incriminating Rhysand and I feared what would happen if the wrong eyes happened upon the letter. 

“My lady?” Aaron startled, sitting suddenly. “Are you alright?” he almost touched me to verify my realness. Juniper crowed at his anxiety, stepping back and forth on her perch.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you. I thought it would be okay if I waited for you to wake,” I laughed nervously. I flushed thinking of how odd my behavior had been. 

“What is the matter?” he appeared thoroughly bewildered by my presence. His eyes kept checking me over, more than once going to my side wound that I had written off as superficial. In truth, I had no idea what it looked like and I preferred that small ignorance. 

“I need to make use of Juniper,” I fidgeted. 


	36. Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

When we camped the next night to let the horses rest, Nesta had taken her sister from my horse and led her to a soft patch of woods. She had laid out her cloak on the ground and guided Elain to sit down with her. Nesta wrapped her arms around Elain and drew her close, whispering things I thought too private to hear. Elain had fallen asleep before we had finished unpacking our horses. 

While I found a place close enough to watch over the pair and far enough for privacy, Nesta watched me with a discerning eye. Linus and Thales led their horses to where we rested and laid on the grass only a pace away from Elain’s foot. Nesta watched them with interest but kept silent. Everytime I thought she would say something, she’d turn away and remain quiet. The brothers acted similarly and laid on one cloak, sharing the other as a blanket. They drifted off to sleep quietly with the ease only children enjoyed. In time, Nesta joined them and fell asleep too. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn was too early and too bright. I had resisted sleep the entire night. I trusted my soldiers to watch over our group but Feyre had entrusted her sister’s to my care. I wouldn’t break her faith now. 

Sleep for fae was not as necessary. I usually functioned well on a little over five hours. But one look at Nesta and Elain and I knew they’d require much more. Which made me feel twice as terrible for pulling them out of their minds. It was made worse when they didn’t wake to my whispered calls. Their hearing had not conveniently returned in time to make this act less painful. 

I debated which sister was worse to softly nudge awake. Touching Nesta seemed the obvious worst answer but touching Elain was just as surely a trap that Nesta closely monitored. I sucked my teeth as I pressed a gentle hand to Nesta’s shoulder. Just the barest touch and her eyes flicked open. I could smell her mortality and yet I wasn’t convinced she was entirely human. “We need to be moving,” I informed her. 

She nodded and I left her to wake Elain. I nudged Linus and Thales awake and they wordlessly followed my lead in preparing for the day. Their mischievous nature had disappeared since we left Alis in the Spring manor. I took my time preparing their horses for another day’s ride, letting the boys shadow my movements. Each horse I was doubly sure they were well fed and watered. The boys took turns caring for their shared horse. I led the three horses to where they slept and offered their reins. 

“Do you have food?” Nesta asked, brushing her cloak off from the ground. She had braided her hair into a crown on her head and had fixed her gown to fit her snuggly. Both Nesta and Elain looked almost normal after their small adjustments.  _ They are so good at wearing masks _ , I thought as I studied the deep blue shadows under their eyes. 

“We didn’t risk a campfire to boil the grains. All we have is dry grains,” I looked back to the Summer fae eating dry oats and barley. Linus and Thales nervously shifted besides me with hungry eyes. I reached into my horse’s pack and withdrew red apples I usually kept close at hand. Some things from the Autumn Court I refused to give up. The apples were a little shriveled but still edible. “It isn’t much,” I winced at the pathetic offerings I had. 

“Thank you,” Elain smiled brightly, voice soft. I had no doubt Elain could not hear me and her quiet voice was from habit. But her happiness seemed genuine. I handed Nesta and Elain a couple of apples and then the sack to Thales and Linus. Alis’s nephews chewed through their applies like wolves, only stopping when they noticed the grace with which Nesta and Elain ate. After that, they chewed with surprising restraint. The cores they fed to the horses and I helped them up onto their horses. I actually helped Elain up. Nesta was quick to seat herself before I made the mistake of offering. Thales shoved Linus into the saddle, almost throwing his younger brother over the horse in the process, but made it work. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We crossed into the Summer Court in the next hour. The temperature was slightly warmer and the humidity worse than before. Both sister’s shrugged their cloaks eagerly. Elain, kept mostly to herself, but every so often would make noises at the plants we passed. Nesta dutifully listened to Elain’s praises of the environment.

But I wasn’t fooled. Nesta’s eyes were as weary of our surroundings as I was. The tension never left our shoulders. But the relief from the Summer fae was palpable when they returned home. It was a march no longer. It was a return journey and they eagerly explored the forest surrounding our parade. Thales left his younger brother with me in the saddle before darting into the woods. I watched his figure disappear into the brush and return with a comically large oranges, cradled in his cloak. He walked between our horses and handed us the fruits to share. 

From then on, we were continually blessed with more instances like this and gorged ourselves on the fruits. First it was oranges until my stomach ached and my fingers stuck to the reins. Next were bananas that were still green but we tied them to my saddle, resolving to try another day. Alis’s nephews prattled on about plant life extensively. Details were usually mistaken but some other Summer fae would chip in and the boys would start anew. Thales was in the middle of a story about mangos when he spotted something in the woods, slipped off the saddle and darted into the woods to our left. 

“Maybe he has to pee,” Linus shrugged, continuing the story where Thales had left off. Elain smiled mutely, watching the path Thales had left behind. Except this time, Thales didn’t return immediately. I held a hand up to stop the voices and we were immersed by the sound of crickets and birds. Rushing water was nearby as well. All eyes watched me with varying degrees of panic. 

I took my scabbard and crept down my horse’s side. With careful steps, I followed Thales’s trail and soundlessly unsheathed my sword. The Summer Court was a sea of green leaves and colorful flowers or fruits. It’s foliage offered much needed camouflage to our band of refugees but it protected our enemies equally well. I kept to the tree trunks with my sword held low to hide it from the sun. Sweat dripped from my temple. When I was about to call for Thales, my eyes found the blue of his cloak. The white embroidered wave trim. 

He stood stock still, holding plums in his hands. His eyes were frozen on the figures ahead. 

In the sunlight only ten paces to the west was a troop of Hybern’s soldiers. They were picking crates up and placing them on the back of a cart. Each crate was made of thick wood and barely visible, were the fingers wrapped around the bars from people trapped inside. Their fae hearing would give us away. The only thing saving us from their swords or those crates was the rushing water. 

I swept my arms around him, covering his mouth and drawing him back into the shadow of a trunk. He was heaving hot breaths into my hand. I lifted him into my arms and pressed his face into my shoulder. Backing away from the soldiers, I returned to our band. 

Thankfully, no one spoke. 

I met every pair of eyes I could. Without words, I communicated my fear and hoped each of them understood the message. From the sheets of white that stared back at me, they heard my meaning with crystal clarity. I took my horse’s bit and pulled him forward. I could not fight that troop alone. I had maybe fifteen Spring Court soldier’s riding with me. Even combined, we could not defeat an entire troop but if we were discovered, we would be forced to. 

The first minutes that passed felt excruciating to me. A knife was sitting at the base of my heart and slowly twisting, drawing more blood with every step until it would burst. 

The source of the rushing water was the Andros river.  _ So close and yet so far _ . If we tried to find a bridge, we risked exposure. If we crossed the river, we might drown or be caught. If we waited any longer, we would definitely be caught. I waved us forward into the water. The Spring Court soldier’s were the first to cross. I handed Elliot my horse’s reins and watched them swim surely against the current. Then we fell into training. After securing the horses, they swam back and we moved the children. Thales refused to leave my arms and Linus kept back with his brother. Not wanting to risk a scene, I made no noise. Then we crossed the elder fae and finally, whoever remained. Everyone who swam over quickly darted into the woods to avoid being spotted. The Cauldron, despite being under Hybern’s command, was watching over us. All our noise was covered by the roar of the water on rocks. 

The water wasn’t cold but my nerves were shaking all the same. I didn’t worry for Thales and Linus on whether they could swim. They were born for it. They took to the waters with the practice and familiarity only the Summer fae had. I followed them in with Nesta and Elain. Both looked equally daunted but we wordlessly submerged ourselves until our feet left the sandy bottom. I swam between the sisters and matched my strokes to their small paddles. Elain didn’t struggle. Nesta, however, was being pushed steadily into me by the current. I looked over my shoulder and saw the black cloaks of soldier’s drinking from the water. 

I reached out and grabbed Nesta’s arm and then Elain’s. Their strokes stilled and we were pushed down the river by the strong current. My eyes remained on the soldiers to see if they noted us. When Elain looked to the soldiers, a gasp left her and one soldier lifted his head. It might have been Elain’s gasp that made him look but it was my red hair, gleaming like copper in the sun, that caught his eye. Hybern's soldiers knew what my presence was: _they had found the spring court refugees._

With a shout we were discovered. 

I gave up all pretense. “Swim,” I commanded, pushing Elain towards the shore. I secured my arm around Nesta and half-dragged her through the water. The beach wasn’t far off and I was shoving both sister’s onto one horse. “Go north, the camp shouldn’t be far,” I hoped. I lifted Linus and Thales onto my horse, smacking the rear. “Soldiers! To me!” I cried out as the Summer fae fled in the direction I’d told Nesta and Elain. We could give them time and that was what mattered. The war camps were near the river, Tamlin had said. I hoped the directions he had given me were true. If they weren't, then no amount of time would save the other fae.

I turned back to Hybern’s soldiers. As I watched them pull boats into the water, I stoked the anger growing inside me. Being forced to separate from Feyre. To abandon her to these same fears. Days of being on the run. Nesta and Elain's ears bleeding for a day. Them being forced from their home. The garden Elain had painstakenly crafted only to be set afire by Hybern. Effortlessly, I summoned the fire in my veins.


	37. Absorb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small gore warning!!!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

* * *

**Cassian:**

I was sore all over when I woke. My spine was tense from spending many nights in these shitty cots and last night was no exception. Laying on my stomach had only compressed my back more and I immediately rounded out my back, trying to relieve that pressure. I nudged something solid on the edge of the cot.

“You’re awake,” Rhysand said tonelessly. He sat at the edge of my cot, leaned over his knees with his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. I might have felt like crap but Rhysand looked like it. He barely had cleaned up from our battle in West Maritch, only swiping a wet rag over his face. His neck was still covered in blood spatter. 

“You smell,” I grimaced. The rotting bodies had followed him home. “Take a bath, my eyes are watering,” I wiped at my cheeks.  _ Or maybe the smell was me _ , I thought when my hand came away equally dirty. 

The long tent was filled with rows of cots. Maybe it was half-occupied but most of the patients still slept. Usually during the day, when battles were usually fought, this place was quiet. Only until the fights finished at night did the tents fill up. I checked but I didn’t see any of the other High Lords. 

Rhysand laughed but it came out half strangled. He looked away from me. “Your...your wing is mended. Thesan’s army arrived in the night. I had a healer inspect it.” I choked on my words. His throat bobbed. “I was wrong, Cassian.” 

I breathed out, tentatively rolling over onto my good wing. I had the other draped over the bedside. “Rhys, no one could have seen Hybern’s-” 

“No. I was wrong to want to leave you, Azriel and Mor behind,” he shook his head. He wiped his face. “I almost got you killed. I almost died too. In one stupid decision we could have lost the war. It’s been a day and the faebane is still in me. What if Hybern modified the faebane? Bred the plant to last longer?” 

“Rhys you can’t take credit for everyone’s stupid decisions,” I leaned against the tent support. “You’re so chock full of magic you think you’re all powerful. You aren’t. So just...stop thinking about how you could have done better. That will kill you faster than Hybern for sure.” 

“Cassian, you could have died-” 

“And that’s my decision to make, Rhys,” I barked. “You’re not the Cauldron or the Mother last time I checked so stop thinking you can control everything.”

Rhysand watched me with tired, appreciative eyes. He snorted. “Cauldron, you’re an asshole.” 

“A talented and handsome asshole.” 

I realized what I said a moment too late. A feline grin spread from ear to ear. “I’ll keep that in mind. I think Helion arrives tomorrow, should I tell-” 

“Oh would you just shut your trap,” I laughed. 

“It’s alright. I’m a very progressive High Lord. I won’t joke too much at your expense,” he raised his hands. Sobering only a little, “Do you think you’re hungry enough to swallow some breakfast?” 

“I’m so hungry I think I might ask for seconds of that sludge,” I complained, slowly getting to my feet. Rhysand and I walked at a sedate pace to the Night Court mess hall. “Next time we almost die, you think you could move my body to my own tent? I hate waking up in the healer’s tent.” 

“We planned to but Mor was meeting with the warlords all night. The Dark Bringers gave her twice as much trouble.”  _ One day, I’ll skin Kier alive.  _ “Azriel still has yet to return from the Spring Court.” 

“He went alone?” Depending on Rhys’s answer, I was going to strangle the male. 

“No. He took Lord Devlon’s Illyrian legion to report back on the extent of Hybern’s control,” Rhysand glanced to the sky. “He should be coming back soon.” I relaxed enough to eat two bowls of boiled barley. One tip Rhysand’s bastard father had imparted that I was not soon to forget was the pouch of salt I kept on me. It not only cleaned dishware and repelled bugs, it made the gruel served passable. 

I started on my third bowl. That was when the shouts started. Rhysand and I were up, out of the mess tent and scanning the camp in a split second. “There,” I pointed to the Spring Court’s camp. Summer fae were emerging from the woods, panting and wet. They were motioning back to the woods with fevor. 

But that wasn’t what caught my eyes. On a horse were two human women. Both of them looked like they had survived an attempted drowning or assassination attempt from the blood still caked on their ears. 

“Feyre?” I muttered. Each of them shared Feyre’s features. Rhysand was frozen next to me, entranced by the scene unfolding. With each passing moment, more fae were stopping to watch the sudden arrival. The patrolling fae were shouting about Hybern’s soldier’s. 

One of the women dropped from the horse. She staggered and caught the hand of a Spring Court soldier, “Please...you have to help him. They are fighting by the river right now,” the girl pleaded, tears leaking from her eyes. The Spring fae resisted the touch but the human woman held firm. Both her hands pressed into his, yanking him towards the woods. He was telling her to let go, to go to the refugee tent but she ignored it like she hadn’t heard. “Lucien needs your help  _ now _ ,” she wept. 

He finally shrugged her off with a quick jerk of his arm. She flung back like a ragdoll. “I said  _ go to the refugee tent human _ ,” he enunciated, voice growing to a near shout. 

“Don’t you dare hurt her,” the other woman almost trampled the fae with her horse. Her horse reared, nearly clipping the male. The woman remained seated, glaring at the soldiers from it’s back. “Didn’t you hear her?” she shouted. No hesitation as she barked orders at the fae who stood still, too shocked to move. Her eyes were fierce with determination. “They need your help. Get your sword and go,” she flung her hands to the woods. More fae were listening finally and grabbing their weapons, running into the forest. 

I looked to Rhys quizzically but he had disappeared. I found him calling a troop of Dark Bringers to arms. “Rhysand who-” 

“Those,” he pointed a hand in the direction of the two human women, “those are Feyre’s sisters.” The implication was clear, Feyre had made it to the war camps and needed help. My hand instinctively went to my swords on my back, recalling they were probably back at the healer's tent. As we ran in the direction of battle, I snatched a spare sword.

At first we were following the green tunics of Spring soldiers in front of us. I could hear no fighting and no cries for help except that which came from the camp. The plants whipped at me and I held out my arms, keeping my vision clear. The canopy above blocked out the sun and my eyes quickly fought to adjust to the darkness. Thick vegetation latched at me and slowed me down. The sound of the Andros filled my ears. Just above the sounds of the water was metal clashing. 

The glare of the sun caught me off guard and the heat, threatening to singe my skin. A troop of Hybern’s soldiers were firing arrows at us. Several more were in boats, paddling to our side. Spring Court fae were battling back Hybern’s soldiers all around me. I narrowly avoided an axe swung at me before I chopped off the offending hand.

The sudden blaze to my left forced me into the river or risk having my wings burned as well as cut. Behind the fire was Lucien Vanserra, hands extended towards Hybern’s dogs that swarmed at him. His tunic had singed at the sleeves and his temple had a nasty gash, bleeding down his cheek and into his mechanical eye. Hybern’s men threw themselves into the Andros to extinguish the flames but didn’t come back up again. He glanced at me and raised his hand. I looked at it like I hadn’t seen one before. “Lucien?” I questioned, raising mine. His golden eyes were wild, reflecting the heat he wielded. I realized he meant to do the same to me and I threw out my wings, trying to escape his flame. 

“No,” Rhysand’s hand on my shoulder strap ripped me from the knee-deep water and away from Lucien. “Cassian’s my general,” Rhysand’s voice was dark and cold. 

I would have been more offended had I not grown used to the other Courts trying to kill me. Lucien was out of breath. He studied Rhysand and I closely. Recognition lit up his features. “I was right,” he sighed out loud. His shoulders fell and he lifted his head to the sky. Gratuity shone in them as he thanked whatever stars looked out for him. “We  _ were  _ close.” I didn’t have time to question what he was saying. 

The Dark Bringer’s fell upon Hybern’s soldiers, a war cry deafening us for the moment. They winnowed from our shore to the other. I watched one take his sword and drive it through a soldier’s jaw, exiting out the back. The Illyian’s were brutal people who sought to conquer and rule, seeing power as strength. The Dark Bringers were not a people. Just a group of fae that enjoyed killing. I turned away from that scene to avoid losing my stomach. 

In a few strides, Lucien stood almost chest to chest with us. His entire demeanor switched from relaxed to intent. I realized I had never seen a member outside our circle that dared come so close to Rhysand. Tamlin even kept his distance but Lucien charged us like he could finish us both with a glance. I guess with Rhysand’s magic suppressed and my wings relatively lamed, he had a better chance. “Did Feyre’s sisters make it to the camps?” his eyes were wide and voice frantic. He took my shock as confusion, “Did the two human’s make it?” 

“Yes, they told us to come here,” Rhysand took over for me, shrugging off Lucien's intensity. I guess it made sense Rhysand was so calm despite having his magic locked away. He was used to others muzzling his abilities. Rhysand’s eyes flitted over the water. “I don’t see her. Where is Feyre?” 

If I felt any shock for Rhysand asking outright about Feyre, it was overshadowed by Lucien’s reply. “She’s not with me. She stayed behind.” I thought back to the snarky woman I had met only two weeks ago. Her blue eyes that always seemed to be challenging me in silent taunts. How she would run but resisted fighting. 

“What?” Rhysand and I spoke at the same time. Lucien gave me a confused glance, probably questioning if he had really never seen me before. I guess I should pretend I didn't know Feyre from now on. 

“It’s a long story,” Lucien replied. Both of us glared at the fae male. I couldn’t think of a better time for an accident to happen where Lucien fell in battle. 

“I’ve got time,” my nostrils flared. Lucien had the good sense to look intimidated. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamlin’s soldiers interrupted our time with Lucien. When they saw the Dark Bringer’s making short work of Hybern’s soldiers, they eagerly rushed Lucien back to camp to report on what had happened. A few times I had heard them asking for the Lady Feyre and Lucien resisted answering. _If he didn't answer his own men, why did he tell us?_

We wanted to follow but after the battle, we were informed that the troop had fae held in cages. It took the majority of the afternoon to understand what happened to the fae, free them and get them back over the Andros to camp. I had thought it suspicious that Hybern’s troops were so close to our war camp. Though Lucien’s small band would have felt intimidated by so many enemy soldiers, it was Hybern’s men that should have feared waking the wrath of our camp. It took only a few guesses to realize they had been scouting for the Spring Court fae. 

The entire time Rhysand was continuously looking over his shoulder towards camp. No doubt wondering what news Lucien had about Feyre. When we were finally able to return to camp, there was no sight of Lucien or Feyre’s sisters. 


	38. Admit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

My magic was sapped. Only a small blaze still remained inside me and I currently relied on that to keep my feet marching onward. And answering the many questions the Spring Court soldiers asked of me. Most wanted to know if their mates and families made it and I resisted answering too deeply. Any fae who had been at the Spring Manor when I arrived was now at the war camp but for every fae that made it, there were hundreds who had not. Who hadn’t been lucky enough to be swept up by Feyre or I. 

While I walked, my mind went back to Feyre the night the Wall was brought down. She had insisted that we needed to save as many as we could even though we couldn’t possibly save everyone. She traded her safety from Hybern and guaranteed survival to deliver a couple of human villages with the likely possibility of failure. While the soldiers crowded me and asked about their loved ones with terror, describing their features and mannerisms, I felt the importance of every soul saved. 

The camp was so much larger than I had thought. Tents in every direction, colored by the Court they came from: green from Spring, white and grey from Winter, pink and orange from the Dawn, and of course the black from the Night Court. Each color expanded endlessly but sadly, the dark blue of the Summer Court was in scarcer quantity. 

“Lucien!” I turned to see Elain, waving her entire arm in my direction. Nesta stood next to her, holding the reins of her horse like she was still considering leaving. The soldiers that had been taking me to see Tamlin waited while I approached the sisters. As I drew near, Elain’s smile vanished from my appearance. I quickly wiped the blood off my sword onto my brown pants and sheathed it. Both sister’s stared at me with varying emotions and I desperately wanted to know their thoughts. 

“Are you two alright?”

Elain nodded. Nesta shrugged. They both were in need of dry clothes and a healer. I was immediately grateful, once again, for the massive war camp that housed Thesan’s expert healers as well. They would be the only fae healers who were formally taught how to magically heal humans as well as fae. 

“Are you? You look…” Elain winced while she took in my appearance. I didn’t feel like I had protected them so I had no pride in my battle-heavy attire. Instead, all I felt was the shame and disgust at the blood on my tunic that could have easily been theirs. 

“I’m well. We need to see you to healers.”

“My lord, High Lord Tamlin…” the soldier didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Anxiety came to life in me once more. I knew once I got here I’d have to tell Tamlin that not only Feyre stayed behind but I had willingly let her. I nodded and motioned for Nesta and Elain to follow. “My lord? Are you sure-”

“Lady Feyre charged me with their safety. I’m only released when Lady Feyre gets here herself,” I quipped. Even if Feyre hadn’t, I would have a hard time letting them out of my sight after the journey we’ve had. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamlin had been studying some papers laying on his desk. They were quickly forgotten when I entered the tent. “Lucien,” he breathed out, rising to hug me. His green eyes were surrounded by purple, swollen skin from not sleeping. He wore a rumpled green doublet, looking as unkempt as he had been with Amarantha. His strength crushed me against him and all the air pressed from my lungs. “What a relief to see a friendly face.” Every moment I stood in the tent was another that my guilt and anxiety doubled. “I heard the commotion but I hadn’t...I didn’t dare hope it would be you. I wanted to winnow to you once I heard but…” he ran out of words to stumble through. He swallowed. “Where’s Feyre? I need to know she’s safe. Cauldron, I need her now more than ever. Where’s my bride to be?” He glanced about excitedly. He said _bride to be_ with boyish excitement. 

I wet my parched lips. “Tamlin...I-” 

Tamlin’s eyes left mine to stare at the two women who followed me into his tent. I briefly regretted having them witness this but I had no one else to entrust them to. His eyebrows furrowed. “Where’s Feyre?” he asked again, recognizing the faces instantly. Even if he had never met Nesta and Elain before, he’d have to be blind not to see the relationship. I glanced back at Feyre’s sisters. Elain didn’t seem to hear his quiet demand. Nesta, however, had retained some hearing and shook her head. “Lucien, where is my betrothed?” 

“We had to split up,” I whispered.

“You had to split up? What? Did you send her with other soldiers? Which ones? Why hasn’t she arrived yet?” Tamlin shook his head frantically. “Where could they be? Why would you let her out of your sight? I trusted you to keep her safe while I was gone.” He took a step back and ran a hand through his greasy hair, now past his shoulders. His fear for Feyre was then overshadowed by his anger at me. “Speak, damn you.” 

“Tamlin, I-” 

“Look at me, you bastard,” he barked. His hand snapped off the corner of his table. Elain bleated quietly. I met his eyes resolutely. The only sound in the tent was his heavy breathing. 

“Feyre and I split up in the Human Realm. She knew we could only save both the people at the manor and the humans by splitting up. She asked me to make sure her sisters were safe.”

“Saving the people at the manor?” his nostrils flared and lip twitched. “She wanted you to leave her to save the soldiers I left behind to  _ protect  _ her?” 

“We had the Summer fae at the manor. They were helping to send supplies. If we didn’t split up, then we would have made a larger target for Hybern. She knew our chances would be better if we took smaller groups.” 

“They aren’t  _ our  _ people!” Tamlin roared back, closing the distance between us. He flung the wooden piece of the table at the floor. “You have no duty to protect  _ them _ . You were supposed to protect Feyre and you failed! Hybern could have her right now and we’d never know,” he screamed and flung his arms out. He panted, his face red with the exertion. “You should be thankful Hybern almost killed me with faebane, otherwise I’d rip you to shreds. You’re a traitor,” he shook his head, voice hoarse. 

I remained quiet. I deserved this. I accepted that when I had first rode away with Nesta and Elain, leaving Feyre in the Human Realm. Regardless of my reasons or Feyre’s decisions, Tamlin had trusted me to watch over her. I should have refused to leave her side. 

“You’re truly a coward,” Tamlin breathed out. His tears were burning trails down his tan skin. My head snapped towards him. “Running at the first sign of danger. Get out of my sight. Leave. Leave before I do something I’ll regret.” 

I bit my tongue until it bled. “Come on,” I said in a low voice to Nesta and Elain. Nesta was still staring at Tamlin when I turned her by her arm to go. Elain didn’t have to hear a single word. She looked as ashamed as I felt which made me feel worse. I led them to Thesan’s camp first and into the healer’s tent. I didn’t give myself the time to reflect on what Tamlin had said and what memories that drudged up. I found the first healer I could and sat them in front of Elain and Nesta. 

“Do you know where I could get clothing?” I asked, sitting on a cot as the healer, Adriel, inspected Nesta. Nesta’s jaw was set firmly while the healer’s hands hovered over her ear. A soft yellow glow startled her but the Adriel’s hand on her shoulder kept her steady. His bushy eyebrows and mustache almost brushed against her skin but she shrank away. 

He made a humming noise. “For you? Or for the humans?” 

“Probably both,” I sighed out. I couldn’t exactly rely on Tamlin being too generous to me and I suspected our packs had washed down the Andros. 

Adriel hummed some more. Nesta’s lips pursed in either annoyance or discomfort. Probably both and a small smile wormed its way onto my lips. “Fae clothing for human sensibilities might be a challenge. I think some of the Spring Court’s fashion would be more in line, no?” 

“That’s not an option,” I sighed.

“Perhaps the Winter Court has clothing that isn’t so warm but just as conservative with the skin then,” Adriel released Nesta just after, “You might feel a little disoriented but your hearing will be fine.” Nesta nodded curtly and moved to sit next to me. Not that I believed it was because she felt comfortable around me. No, Nesta knew I had no intention of touching her. “Dear?” Adriel asked Elain. When Elain didn’t respond, he sighed, “Oh my. Your poor hearing.” 

He didn’t speak until he had finished fully with Elain. She had looked drowsy but still had that content smile on her rosebud lips. Even as exhausted as she looked, she was graceful. She politely took Adriel’s hand and thanked him in a low whisper. 

Nights in the Spring Court were brisk. The humidity kept that at bay in the Summer Court but fall still kept the nights cooler. Both Elain and Nesta had goosebumps from the short walk to the Winter Court’s camp. Thankfully, the Winter Court was much more warm than the other courts were towards strangers. I think that was a product of how isolated they were. 

“Oh, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a light laugh tinkled from behind us. When I turned, I caught the annoyance on Nesta’s face. Viviane stood arm-in-arm with Morrigan, dressed in complete opposites. Viviane wore a silver deel that had pearls embroidered on the cuffs and a fur trim on the bottom trim. Morrigan still wore her red-tinted armor and crimson lipstick to match, looking less thrilled than my father would be to see me. “I knew those were human ears,” Viviave whispered to Morrigan and smiled too excitedly at Feyre’s sisters. “What are you doing here, Lucien?” she cocked her head to the side. Her unnervingly clear blue eyes assessed us. Elain inched towards me, pulling her sister with her. I couldn't help but smile a little. 

“I was coming to your camp to find them warmer clothes. We lost most of ours in the Andros,” I explained. “I can understand if it’s too much to ask, my lady,” I added hastily, wanting nothing more than to find a quiet place to scream. 

A wide smile spread. “That’s definitely not a problem. I take it our clothes are much more...to your liking. And you are…?” she asked kindly. 

“Elain,” she said it so quietly, if we were human we never would have heard. If I wanted to find a place to scream, Elain wanted a place to hide. Nesta said hers like we had tortured her previously. Morrigan quirked an eyebrow. 

“They are Feyre’s sisters,” I provided, since neither offered that fact. 

Both Viviane and Morrigan’s eyes lit with interest. “Come on then,” she smiled encouragingly and led the way. I thought she would bring us to the clothes but nothing could be so painless. Instead, she brought us to her private tent and I had to blow out a sigh of utter relief that High Lord Kallias wasn’t present. I could not handle much more. 

Viviane spread out a dressing curtain for privacy and then flipped open her own trunk. If Nesta or Elain realized the honor bestowed on them, they didn’t show it. I would have been comfortable standing outside but she pointed to a chair at a delicate table. Unfortunately, there were three seats for her, Morrigan and I. With no excuses left, I sat down. Morrigan sat stiffly next to me. Viviane poured wine for Morrigan and I, oblivious to our discomfort. I wondered how much of Morrigan’s history she shared willingly. I bet those painful memories she would rather keep secret. I could understand that sentiment. “Are you interested in food? I’d offer you wine but it’s terribly strong for humans.” 

I winced recalling Feyre’s reactions. “Yes, please,” Elain’s quiet voice echoed. 

“I’ll send for some,” she spoke and a messenger fox came into the tent, a little bell chiming softly as it trotted. She gave it a slip of paper, bopped it’s nose and the fox ran off with the message. “Imagine that, Feyre has human sisters,” Viviane mused, sipping her wine. 

Morrigan hadn’t taken her eyes off the dressing curtain. As if she could still see either sister. Nesta and Elain emerged together, hand in hand. Viviane was a half-head taller than both, as most fae were, and so both women had to hold the bottoms of their deel to walk. Though they must have been tired, they didn’t show it. They had rebraided their hair and stood with shoulders back and chins lifted. Elain’s doe eyes watched mine so I gave her my warmest smile. She breathed out, twirling the long braid. 

“You two are gorgeous,” Viviane sighed. “I can’t wait to meet your sister.” Elain’s deel was a soft blue that was secured by several wraps of silver cord around her waist. The pale color brought out her tanned skin and sun-kissed freckles. As soon as I realized the train of my thoughts, I swallowed and admonished myself.

Nesta peeled her eye’s away from Morrigan to level a hard stare at Viviane. “Does that mean you weren’t Under the Mountain?” 

Viviane’s eyes went a little red when she shook her head. “No.” 

“She’s coming,” Elain reassured. 

“Of course she is,” Morrigan finally spoke, nodding confidently and earning surprised looks from everyone in the room. 


	39. Brief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Feyre’s sisters were a source of questions with no answers. They set my mind turning with possibilities and hopes that I was wracking my mind to resolve. I hoped I’d see them somewhere about the camp but they were absent when I returned with Cassian and the Dark Bringer legions. As a High Lord, I could hardly just disappear into the crowded war camp and find them. My presence and absence was noted constantly. Taking interest in two human women, especially Feyre’s human sisters, would be quickly circulated in camp gossip. I knew they were off-limits to me in all settings; Feyre was betrothed to Tamlin and her sisters would fall under his care. His misguided sense of honor would ensure the women were never alone with me or my court. 

At least I believed this until I sat at the High Lord’s meeting that had increasingly expanded to include our advisors and courts as well. Now that four High Lords were without our magics, we only met when we had people in our court that could reliably protect us. Tarquin’s tiny war tent was getting crowded. 

Though I cringed to think of the poor, misbegotten assassin who thought our magic was our only dangerous feature. 

Cresseida and Varian flanked Tarquin at all times. Tarquin did not appear the slightest bit riled by their attentiveness. He leaned back in his chair, giving amused glances to his cousins. Tarquin’s relaxed and warm demeanor was quickly growing on me. 

Viviane had a possessive hand latched to Kallias’s shoulder. If anyone thought it odd that Viviane was protecting Kallias single-handedly, they wisely kept their mouth shut. Mor had whispered to me that Viviane, lacking Kallias’s raw magical power, specialized in the subtle magic of the Winter Court: freezing fae by their blood. The torture had sounded so barbaric, I wondered if Viviane’s family tree intersected with the Court of Nightmares. 

Mor, Azriel and Cassian found every excuse to follow me. The moment we had returned to the war camp, Mor had thrown up a sound barrier and called me every foul name in the book. After, she threw her arms around me and cried into my dirty armor. Even when I went to bathe later, I was accompanied by them as well. I read the worry and good intentions easily in their eyes and found I was warmed instead of offended. 

Tamlin, though, sat alone. Some lord I had never seen before stood at his back and for the millionth time, I wished I had my magic to know what happened for Tamlin to sever his ties with his right hand. Lucien had never been high up in my estimations but I was viewing the fox in an entirely different light. This was only compounded by Lucien entering the meeting a moment later with Feyre’s sister’s in tow. 

“He’s either an idiot or the bravest fae I’ve ever met,” Cassian muttered to Azriel behind me. I had not heard the exact comments made but most fae were hard pressed  _ not  _ to listen to Tamlin’s complete dismissal of Lucien. 

“Both.” Mor replied with careful detachment, helpfully providing the sound barrier. I eagerly took the moment of surprise to evaluate each fae in the tent. Not a single fae was unaffected by the women’s presence. Kallias was looking at them like they were a ghost from Under the Mountain and he was right. Nearly the spitting image of Feyre. Tamlin ignored them entirely and Tarquin was still placing their faces. None of the High Lord’s reactions surprised me but my own circle caught me off guard. Cassian and Azriel looked frozen in space and time. Mor, weary. 

Lucien ignored every glance and prompting expression and chose instead to stand behind Tamlin and Tamlin’s lord. And Feyre’s sisters stood behind Lucien. Clasping his hands in front of him, Lucien stared blankly at the table. 

Barely breaking the tension, Thesan walked in with his peregryn lover and commander of forces to take the last seat empty at the table. 

Clapping his hands, Tarquin turned to me. “Now that we are all here, High Lord Rhysand, you sent an Illyrian legion into Spring Court territories. Would you like to report on what was found?” A month ago, a statement like that would have meant an instant declaration of war between Tamlin and I’s courts. Now, I wasn’t so sure Tamlin had a court after what happened to his lands.

I wisely neglected to inform Tamlin that Azriel had returned from his mission. It would have been polite to send Azriel to report the information to Tamlin immediately but I ignored that in favor of keeping clear of his infamous temper. “Hybern began at West Maritch, we believe from the decay, four days prior to taking down the Wall. To remain undetected, he poisoned the cities or towns along the Wall to prevent a noticeable slaughter or a fae possibly escaping. Unchallenged, Hybern slaughtered-” 

“Unchallenged?” Tamlin scoffed. He was near bearing his teeth at me. 

“My error,” I nodded. Tamlin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Without an army to stop him, Hybern slaughtered nearly all cities halfway into the Spring Court that bordered the Wall. At each town, he stationed soldiers to wait. He then brought down the Wall with the Cauldron and his forces marched on the Human Realm. He currently holds the entire Human Realm and the southern half of the Spring Court. Without any resistance, he will have the Spring Court in a day or two’s time,” I finished my report and waited for them to revive. 

“Under our noses Hybern conquered nearly two courts,” Kallias sighed out. His pale hand grabbed Hybern’s wooden tokens and placed them on the map below. 

“Nearly,” both Tarquin and Tamlin spoke at the same time. But all our eyes fell on the map and that  _ nearly  _ felt hollow. 

Kallias cleared his throat. “Yes, nearly. But all the same, why use the Cauldron to bring down the Wall? Conquering the Human Realm south of the Wall is hardly a strategic win. It earns him nothing.” I knew Kallias’s intentions were well-meant. He had not fought in the War so he would be quick to underestimate the human threat. A soft snort was the only objection to his statement. Every chair creaked as we turned to look at Feyre’s sister.  _ Was this Nesta or Elain?  _ With all eyes on her, she raised her chin defiantly. Tamlin stared at the table in front of him. Kallias smiled encouragingly, “Care to comment?”

Every fae held their breath. Her heart remained steady as she spoke, “I may not have been alive but Humans fought for liberation in the War as well. But that isn’t enough. Hybern now has free reign to steal the Book of Breathings from the Human Queens.” Her casual mention of the Book threw me into a tailspin. It wasn’t exactly uncommon knowledge but if Feyre spoke to her about it, she might unwittingly place me in a very awkward position with Tamlin. And Feyre when she turns up. 

“And how do you know-”

“I  _ can  _ read,” she practically hissed. I subtly sank back into my chair with relief. I didn’t need any more complications and Feyre’s sister, sat unknowingly, on a bomb waiting to explode. Any mention of the bargain and Tamlin’s patience might finally snap entirely. Lucien’s face had gotten significantly more pale as she continued to speak. 

I heard Cassian stifle a laugh from behind me. She glared purposefully at Cassian. 

Taking advantage of the stunned audience, I stated, “Hybern’s access to the Book of Breathings necessitates us getting to it first.” 

“We’ve sent an emissary to the Human Queens as a first step. We should look to retrieve the piece from the Summer Court soon,” Thesan nodded. My eyes went to Feyre’s sisters and I studied them for any reaction but they remained quiet. With how this conversation was going, I would need to reveal the bargain soon. 

The tent flap opened and a Spring Court soldier stood in his long green tunic, sword hung at his waist with brown pants that had various hunting knives strapped there. He wore a thick leather hawking glove and perched atop was a gigantic red-tailed hawk. A small leather case was buckled to the bird’s chest. “My lord, a hawk came for you,” he nodded his head.

“That bird’s so big it’s a wonder it can fly,” Viviane whispered to Mor.

“That’s Juniper,” Lucien breathed, chest sinking with palpable relief. The significance was lost on me but not Lucien, Feyre’s sisters and certainly not Tamlin. Tamlin waved the soldier in and pulled out two letters, crammed inside the small space. 

“I take it the hawk is from the Spring Manor?” Thesan waved a hand to the bird. Tamlin barely nodded. He unfolded the first letter and ripped it open. He kept his face as still as stone but his eyes hardened as he read. I wished I could see that letter to know what Feyre could have said to make Tamlin so angry. “Is there news?” 

“None that concerns this room,” he snapped, folding the letter and starting on the second. Before he tore the letter open, his eyes hardened immediately and he threw the letter in Lucien’s direction. Lucien quickly caught the letter in the air, eyes wide with concern. Tamlin rose from his seat and left the tent in stunned silence. The amusement that lit my face was no longer a part of my mask. 

I was thankful Mor kept her sound barrier on my inner circle because Cassian piped up, “She’ll have to tell me what she wrote to piss him off so efficiently.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Tamlin left, Lucien quickly followed with Nesta and Elain too. If I could winnow, I would have tackled that male into the mud and wrestled him for the letter he sent. As it turned out I didn’t need to. 

My court and I sat in my tent speaking strategy for meeting Hybern’s full force when Lucien delivered himself and Feyre’s sisters neatly at my feet. Without a guard posted at the door, he slipped inside the tent to all our surprise. Nesta and Elain followed him in as well though I don’t think that was planned as he sent a glare at the two. Only one bothered looking slightly guilty. 

Cassian, perched on my desk, leaned forward the instant they arrived. His eyes trained on the sisters. We all stared at each other in silence. “Are you lost?” I asked, sipping wine lazily. 

“No,” he hissed bitterly. “Feyre told me to deliver this and I assume she meant to you,” he thrusted out the letter he’d been given earlier. Azriel took the letter from Lucien’s hand and passed it to where I sat across the table. Lucien looked at Azriel’s shadows nervously. I kept my face schooled in a look of mild interest but I was alive with thrill. Nervous anticipation pooled inside me. My entire court sat relaxed but I wasn’t fooled with their masks either. Lucien turned to leave, motioning for her sister’s to follow when I called, “Wait.” With a sigh, he faced me. “Sit,” I motioned to the spare seats. Feyre’s sisters practically dropped in their seats, exhaustion sitting heavily on their shoulders. It had only been this morning that they came, soaking wet and shouting for help. 

I unfolded the paper and the first line told me everything I needed. I stopped reading and sat the letter back on the table. “What? Aren’t you going to read it?” he asked. Lucien must also have been tired for how bold he acted.  _ Or maybe it’s Feyre’s influence,  _ I smiled inwardly. 

“I don’t need to. It’s the letter she wrote to the Human Queens,” I smoothly replied. If Lucien was hand delivering me this letter, I had to assume he already knew about the bargain. Either that, or Feyre trusted him unconditionally. 

“That explains why she didn’t send it to Tamlin,” he sighed and I pitied Lucien for constantly accommodating Tamlin's temper. 

“You didn’t read it?” I furrowed my brows. Maybe it had been a rather big assumption to make that Feyre told him of the bargain. 

“Feyre left me a note with instructions,” he raised a ripped piece of paper that he slipped inside his tunic. “The letter wasn’t for me anyway,” he motioned to the paper on the table. I almost asked to read what she told him. 

Cassian had no reservations though, “Is she safe?” 

Lucien considered Cassian. “Not in the slightest. Tamlin’s already sent patrols out to find her but none have come back yet,” his voice dropped and hitched. 

“They aren’t looking hard enough then,” the sister that spoke in the meeting muttered. Cassian’s eyes never left her. She, at times, stared back but then looked away with indifference. 

“Nesta,” Lucien warned.  _ So she was Nesta _ , I mentally noted. That made the silent one besides her Elain. “We should be going then,” Lucien began to rise but I stopped him with a look. 

“And where are you going?” I asked. He tightened his lips. “You have no supplies. No tent. Judging from the meeting, I don’t think Tamlin will be too eager to provide you with either.” 

“And what? You will?” he asked. I credited him for remaining angry even after he realized just who he was snapping at. Even without my magic, I remained threatening. And if that wasn’t enough, the looks my inner circle was sending his way would have made the message clear as well. 

“I will,” I nodded, enjoying how the anger slipped from his face to confusion. “Tomorrow, you can see if Tamlin is feeling generous. But for tonight, you can take a tent and so will Nesta and Elain,” he watched me with assessing eyes but finally nodded.

“Thank you,” he said and took Feyre’s sisters with him.

Mor watched me with a knowing smile, her manicured eyebrow raised. “Oh don’t give me that look.” Camp gossip be damned. 


	40. Awaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

"Are you sure?” Alis asked, staring into the gaping mouth of the cave. Bron and Hart looked equally shocked. 

“It’s either this or we risk another day on the road,” I said. It had taken us another day and a half to reach the mouth of the caves and Hybern’s trails of smoke were never too far behind. I had no way of knowing if Hybern knew he was following a band of refugees. Considering we were still alive, I had to assume they were still ignorant to us. That could change every day we remained in the open. Several of the humans had infants and my luck was known to run short. 

So I had led them to the caves I had stood at nearly a year prior: the ones that led to Under the Mountain. Magically impenetrable and the last place anyone would look for us. Though every entrance led to Under the Mountain, I intended to use my magic to find an exit that would take us to the war camps. The old magic of the caves had delivered me to Amarantha’s court within a couple of hours. I hoped with my magical abilities, I could adopt what the other fae had done to find exits from these caves.  _ They must have found ways out somehow _ , I reasoned. With every passing day I was relying more and more on ill-founded hopes and assumptions. 

When my injured side made itself known, I knew I had no choice either way. I had braved a look at the wound on my side to watch it ooze a clear yellow fluid through a slit of unmended skin. The area looked red. I attempted to push the skin back together to urge it to heal fully but the sharp pain in my side made it clear that wouldn’t be happening. I suspected a piece of the ash bolt had splintered off into my side and was slowly draining me. I had fallen asleep on the saddle while we traveled and when Alis woke me, my skin glistened with sweat. 

After that, my magic weakened as well. I could no longer cover our tracks with my magic-guided winds. Even when I mentally reached for Rhysand, I took longer to find the bond and call down it. He hadn’t responded in two days. I didn’t know what that meant and I tried my best not to think about it. 

All my thoughts surrounding him were confusing. I didn’t want to forget what went on between us Under the Mountain but I could not say that it was all bad. Rhysand had saved Lucien’s life, spared me from the abuses of Amarantha’s goons and on numerous occasions saved my life. Even when he dressed me in gossamer and had me dance before the courts, I felt those instances were actions that had ulterior motives. If I had learned anything at all from Rhysand, his intentions were never straightforward. 

That also terrified me. I had come to enjoy his company and that made me nervous to find out what he did want from me. I pushed away those thoughts in favor of leading the human band into the caves, trading one frightening thought for another equally terrifying reality. 

The humans looked curiously at the cave but they followed one after the other into the cave network, placing a surprising amount of trust in the fae leading them. I suspected this had more to do with the glamour. Graysen and his family had stayed far from me since the beginning of our flight. I didn’t blame them. Each one of the fae soldiers who were duty-bound to guard me were broader and taller than any member of Graysen’s family. A single soldier more intimidating than the whole might of Graysen's family. 

I had never noticed the sheer size difference between the fae and humans before. Even my hand, slight as it was, was still as long as Ned’s human hand. As the tallest sister, I hadn’t noticed any difference between myself and Nesta or Elain but when I saw them again, I would have to pay more attention. Despite being Made, I was more lanky than before. I hated to think I had changed so significantly. Once again, my choice had been robbed from me and it was difficult to keep the bitterness out of my thoughts. 

_ At least I was alive _ , I reminded myself as my eyes studied the human’s gaunt expressions.  _ I am alive when many are not. I cannot control my past but I can control my future.  _ I repeated those words until I felt some faith in them. Maybe one day I would wake up and not feel so bereft and function without constantly ruminating. Until then, I would have to remind myself to move forward. 

When we entered the caves for all outside light to disappear, we lit torches to guide our way. At points, the path was so narrow only two could stand abreast but then it would widen significantly and even bunched up in group, we couldn’t see either cave walls. The ceiling rose and dropped as well, where at times riding a horse was uncomfortable because of the stalactites. I let Alis ride my horse anyway. Urisks were an oddly light fae like they were made of balsa wood and I didn’t want to burden my horse as much. Alis looked uncomfortable when I told her to remain seated. She insisted that she didn’t feel tired in the slightest but I told her that it was an order. I felt a pang of guilt but she had fallen asleep on my back during the ride so I knew she was tired. 

At least one of us would be able to rest. 

For the time we traveled, we all kept silent out of fear of Hybern hearing us. That behavior carried over into the caves and all we could hear was the shuffling of feet on stone and far off dripping water. I asked Shepard to keep time when we entered and at some points, I heard him counting under his breath. If it had taken me a couple of hours to reach Under the Mountain, then we couldn’t travel for more than an hour if we didn’t want to travel too far north. The war camps were just beyond the northern mountains of the summer court, bordering the autumn court. If we could find an exit further north than the camps, we’d be safe from Hybern’s army. If we emerged too far south, we’d have the same issue of avoiding Hybern’s patrols or troops. 

I wanted a map but I didn’t have one so I’d have to make due with the assumptions I currently had and hope that didn’t kill everyone.  _ Or myself _ , I sighed when my hand camp away sticky from my side. I could smell the infection now on myself. I didn’t know what that meant. 

With how hot my head felt, I didn’t really care. 

I reached for Rhysand again but couldn’t tell if I was going through the mental bond anymore. The bond, once concrete and easy to visualize, felt like a memory now. Like when I tried to recall the smell of him. I knew he smelled of sea and citrus and could imagine those scents well but the actual sensation was missing. 

I knew Tamlin smelled of earth. Earth with rain and roses. 

“It has been half the hour, my lady,” Sherwood informed me when Shepard’s counts reached high enough. I nodded lazily, humming. “Are you alright my lady?” his nose twitched and I knew he could smell the rot. 

“Just a small injury,” I shrugged my shoulders. I could feel the weight of Alis’s eyes on me from my horses’s back. Their eyes met and they shared an uneasy glance. I sighed. “I would like to keep going. The faster we travel, the better I’ll feel,” I reasoned. 

“We could look at it here my lady. None of us are practiced healers but we know how to repair battle wounds,” he said helpfully. I stopped walking to face him. I resisted the idea but I couldn’t wait for the pain to get worse and suppress my magic entirely. I nodded, motioning for him to stop the procession. Sherwood smiled, holding out a hand for me to wait where I stood. “Oliver has the most practice.” 

The human’s whispers echoed loudly in my fae ears as to why we were stopping. “Oliver can see it for ten minutes but we can’t afford too long. If he can’t immediately help, we keep moving,” I consented and leaned against my horses’s neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and hay. I closed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion of my wound and the past few days crash into me. 

Steps approaching and my eyes flicked to see Oliver and Sherwood, holding a torch for the two of them. “May I see the wound, my lady?” I waved him forward, a little impatiently. He knelt on the ground at my waist while Sherwood held the torch for light. I had loosened my bodice significantly since getting injured so Oliver had no issue parting the torn dress and peeling either side back to see my torso. He sucked in a breath and I would have taken offense if the smell hadn’t sickened me as well. 

He prodded and my eyes snapped open, tearing a cry from my throat. He retracted his hands as if I burned him. “There is a piece of ash stuck in your side, my lady.” 

“I can survive anything but a thorn in my side,” I quipped. He gave me a concerned look.

“It must be removed but I cannot give you anything for the pain...and I must do it with my hands,” he said softly. “We could wait but it might get worse.” 

I looked up at the procession in front of me. My first duty was to get these people to safety. If I died for them, at least I’d have something positive attached to my headstone. “We can’t afford the time,” I replied with resolve cooling my voice. I detached myself from my fear. I hadn’t wanted to look at the wound. I had been so terrified to see what damage had been done. I had not learned much since Under the Mountain and Rhysand was not here to save me with his bargains. And Lucien would certainly not be coming to my rescue either. I would be facing these consequences alone, it seemed. “If we make camp tonight, we can revisit. But hopefully, we will be arriving at the war camps by the end of the day.”

Oliver bit his bottom lip but rose to his feet, bowing his head and then leaving to call for us to march onward. Sherwood, still holding the torch, swallowed roughly. “Can I help you onto the saddle, my lady?” his voice was hoarse. 

“I would appreciate that very...much,” I said, voice strained from the throbbing at my side. I stepped into Sherwood’s cupped hands. The next move would be for me to swing my leg over the saddle but I couldn’t raise my leg to do that. Instead, Alis hooked her arms under mine and pulled me onto the saddle. I was finally able to straddle my horse with small movements of my leg. 

“You should sleep, my lady. I’ll watch over you,” she whispered. 

“We have to find the exit,” I replied, groggily from the pain.

“I’ll wake you when it’s time,” she assured, pressing a delicate kiss to my sweaty forehead. I closed my eyes without any further coaxing needed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alis spoke my name softly to coax me awake. To a familiar tune, she sang my name and my eyes fluttered open. It felt like I was still sleeping but I knew that couldn’t be the case because my fever hadn’t broken. I heard a deep, mocking laugh from the back of my mind. “It has been an hour Lady Feyre,” she said. “We need to find our exit.” 

I blinked and saw red behind my eyes. My head throbbed wildly. Her voice echoed in my head. Drops of water and whispers of the humans sounded further and closer than possible. I saw double of my hands, gripping the reins of my horse tightly. I blinked harder and a wave of nausea swept over me. 

“Bron and Hart say they found three exits,” she continued to speak softly. Her chin rested on my shoulder. I thought I heard laughter from somewhere in the cave. When I focused ahead, the dark of the cave split into three directions. Another blink and there was only one path ahead. 

_ Was this another of Amarantha’s tests?  _

The crowd around me had vanished and I sat alone on my horse. Rumbling from behind me and when I turned, instead of the Middengard wym, Alis was sitting. She looked worried. “My lady?” 

Someone’s voice echoed from behind me and Alis shushed them. 

My peripheral was spinning. I could hardly sit straight. My spine was nonexistent. Something cool dripped on my cheek. I raised my hand to my face, touching the liquid to see red. Another glance and it was water. The liquid switched back to blood and just as quickly to water. Laughter echoed in my mind. Malicious and feminine. It taunted me. Practically begging me to struggle more within the confines of my body. I clenched my eyes shut. Alis’s voice echoed too loudly this time and I shuddered. I tunneled further and further into my mind. Block everyone out until I could feel safe again. No more pain from my side. The heat from my fever left. The damp smell of the cave replaced by a scentless wind. I pushed further into my mind until I lost all feeling in my legs or hands. 

The sensation of floating carried me away from my body. A weightlessness without the feeling of water on my skin. Instead there was nothing but black, impenetrable night. Small little stars scattered around me. I drifted towards them, feeling some resistance. The same burning sensation when the Wall fell down. I swept that magic away, aiming for those bright specks of light. 

I touched one and the heat burned me but my vision was of a camp. I was holding a plate of food, barley and oats by the look of it. My hand was much larger and more masculine. Calluses on it that didn’t belong to me. I turned my head and I saw Nesta. She raised an eyebrow at me like she expected a response. She said something but her voice was dulled, like she spoke on the other side of a wall. Or shouted through water. I wanted to stay with her but my thoughts were of the caves. How to find our way out and if I stayed, I would drown in the knowledge that my sisters were safe. 

I pulled away from that light and reached for another.  _ Give me some direction.  _ This fae sat at a fire. They held a wickedly curved weapon that gleamed in the firelight. When I took over, they dropped the whetstone and some other fae glanced over curiously. 

_ No _ , I retracted my hand. 

I looked this time at a brighter light. I pushed forward through the little resistance they offered. This time, I knew the host was aware of me. Our minds circled each other in greeting. But I didn’t need to ask for entrance or break their barrier because I was already in. Moving was a difficult feat. Their body- my body practically fell onto the table and I was  _ heavy _ , almost tipping the table. My hands were splayed out, covered in black leather with these red stones gleaming so brightly I squinted. 

The other occupants in the room startled back from my lumbering form. One female fae with golden eyes and hair said something, alarmed. I focused on her crimson lipstick but forced myself to look back at the map. Moving was getting more difficult. They were resisting me and I forced them to view the map. My finger tracing the path I would need to take; dragging a line from the war camp to the network of caves. A glance was all I got of it and it was all I needed.

At this point, they were forcing all their will against mine. Throwing me out felt like I had been burned and then slapped harshly. The others in the room had been asking questions but the mind I held so tightly couldn’t even grit a response. When I released them, I was pushed out which felt like falling but upwards. 

And then I was sucking in air like I hadn’t been breathing. Pain, sharp in my side reminded me why I couldn’t heave my chest so forcefully. I raised my hand instinctively to my side, feeling the oddness of having a body. It felt new to me. Like I had never felt the fabric of my dress before. I was all to aware of how my fabric brushed against my body or how my hair that tickled my neck. I blinked rapidly, taking in these sensations as they came. 

“My lady?” Alis’s voice was so much louder. Her hand was gripping my right arm like a vice. 

“I’m alright, Alis,” I nodded, staring at my hands. 

“You didn’t respond, I thought you were slipping into a fever dream,” she rushed to say. 

_ I was only gone a moment?  _ It felt like several minutes had passed by. I licked my dry lips. “No, I’m sorry. I was...thinking,” I said. “We need to take the longest route." 

“The longest?” Bron, who sat besides me on his own horse, surprised me with his presence.  _ How long had he been there?  _

“How would we know which of those is longer? Should we send a-” 

“The left,” I interrupted, thinking back to the map. I was met with quizzical looks but they agreed, calling out my orders faithfully. 

Each step down the path led me further into my fears. If I had been wrong, we would pay for it with another night spent out of the safety of the war camp. Another day that Hybern would have to figure out where we had disappeared to. It would take under an hour once that happened for his soldiers to find us in these caves. 

When the cave system ended and we stepped out into the humid night air, my fears only slightly relieved. We had made it out and that solved one issue. We were in the Summer Court but had no idea where. If my timing had been wrong, we could be too far south. Or so far north we’d need to spend another night traveling. I had no idea which direction we should travel in. 

The humans in front had stopped short, pausing where they stood. Murmurs and whispers rose into the night. I almost hushed them to stop making noise but curiousity distracted me. I nudged my horse towards the front of our group. We barely had marched out of the caves when we had to pause. Oliver and Shepard led the front and they were sitting still on their horses, looking out at the unending night. I was going to ask why we stopped when I pulled hard on the reins, preventing my horse from slipping down a steep cliff. My horse’s hoof sent rubble over the edge of the rock face, hurtling towards the valley below where hundreds of lights scattered the valley. Each light from the fires of the war camps.

Tears ran down my cheeks that I didn’t bother to hold back. Exhaustion had worn down all my defenses and I didn’t care if they saw me cry. We had made it and we would be safe. The weights slipped from my shoulders. Even the pain in my side couldn't stop me from breathing easier. 

Something flapped in the night. _The attor_ , I thought panickedly. 

I glanced up to see the winged figure land only a few paces from our band. My eyes scanned it quickly, finally realizing it wasn't that nightmarish creature. I wanted to call out to Cassian but realized that this Illyrian wasn’t the General. I didn’t recognize this one. A hard mouth and dark eyes stared assessingly at our group: a group of tired, half-starved humans and a couple of Spring fae that had barely seen an hour of sleep. A sword gleamed in the moonlight, making my heart race. Oliver’s horse whinied and I finally realized how hard they were breathing. The fae soldier's by my side had frozen in fear. Eyes no doubt caught by the sharp steel that Illyirian wielded. The large, imposing wings that were silhoutted by moonlight. 

But I felt no fear. In fact, I wanted to laugh aloud. Those wings were expansive and larger than perhaps two horses but I had seen Cassian's wings block out the moon itself. I had watched him hurtle a million leagues per second at the hard earth and land with a smile on his lips. He'd taught me swordmanship with sweeping strikes of his blades; every move had the precision of someone who worshipped at an altar of battle. I knew what deadly looked like because I had known Cassian. This Illyrian may know how to wield a sword but he could not daunt me with it. 

I lifted my chin and spoke clearly, supressing my pain with confidence. “You will take us to the war camps. We need food and rest.” 

My voice surprised him. The Illyrian’s mouth warped into a cruel, amused smile. “I do not take orders from you, fae.” 

I threw caution to the wind.  _ Damn the punishments and the rumors and the whole damned world.  _ I had not suffered on the journey just to be taunted at the gates of salvation. “You do now,” I hissed back, lowering my voice into something infinitely darker. Alis gasped from behind me. “General Cassian will flay you as a favor to me. He might even do it for the sheer pleasure. Who knows? Shall we find him and ask?” With every word I spoke, the Illyrian stilled further. His eyes searched me. Taking in my torn dress, undoubtedly smelling the infection in my blood and the burning hatred in my eyes. I knew the moment I had mentioned Cassian that this Illyrian would bend to my will. 

I also knew that the fae surrounding me were staring at me with the same suspicion. I straightened my spine. I vowed I wouldn't hide from their judgement and I'd not start now. 

“Of course, my lady,” he rushed out. He launched into the skies and our group followed the winged shadow down the cliff and into the heart of the war camps. 


	41. Arrive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Note: There are topics in this chapter that might be disturbing to some readers including depression and rape.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

“We could just block them at the Relaran Pass,” Cassian pointed to a spot on the map where a break in the Summer mountains provided the only route from south to north in the Summer Court. “The Illyrians would be able to provide aerial support. The rest of the army fills the pass. Hybern’s army will be forced to use this if he ever expects to conquer north of the Summer Court. It’s either he goes around the Summer mountains entirely or he goes through the pass. He’s not going to want to wait that long to conquer the Summer court.” 

“We’d need to move all our troops there in a week’s time if we expected to block Hybern,” I rubbed my chin, squinting at the map. I stretched my hands over my head, yawning. I wanted to sit and talk strategy but my mind had gone back to Feyre multiple times. My magic had returned earlier in the day and I had immediately tried to speak with Feyre. I couldn’t reach her mind. It had been behind some barrier of magic. All my thoughts were with her since then. “Tarquin says there are mountain people that live up there. We’d want to send Illyrians ahead to even see if-”

“No this won’t work. We can’t meet Hybern with head on tactics,” Mor sighed, rubbing her temples. 

“We need to Mor-” 

Mor cut Cassian off with a glare. “If we meet Hybern on any type of open plain, Hybern will finally use that Cauldron of his on us,” she said with mock joy. “We’d be delivering him our armies and we couldn’t even retreat in the Relaran Pass.”

I took another look at the map. “So we have to think of another plan,” I sighed. The sound of crickets on the hot summer night filled the room. 

“Correction,  _ I’ll  _ think of another plan since you and Cassian are prepared to deliver all armies on a silver platter,” she shook her head, sipping from her wine. 

“I agree but I think the Relaran Pass shouldn’t be-” Cassian cut off with a choked noise. 

“What? Did you choke on a grape?” I squinted at his reddening face. He ignored what I said. I glanced to Mor. 

“Cassian?” she asked. 

He slumped forward onto the table, hands splayed forward on the map. The table almost tipped but Mor's hand steadied it. When he looked back up again, his eyes were fully black. They briefly flickered to gold momentarily before settling on black. “His mind’s being invaded,” I breathed out, panic strangling me. I had personally trained Azriel and Cassian on how to block their minds from powerful daemati. I’d known that their minds would be the first target for any spy. If their mental walls had been breached, it was only from someone more powerful than the average daemati. That was a short list with a population of one name: me. 

Until now of course. 

“I didn’t think Hybern had daemati that powerful,” Mor hissed, rising to her feet. Cassian’s hand traced the Autumn Court before settling over the Summer Court mountains. 

“I thought so as well,” I said and blessed my luck that my magic had returned. I launched into his mind without a second thought, praying that the battle I was about to wage wouldn’t scramble his brain irreparably. I attempted to distance myself from Cassian’s mind as much as possible, trying to respect his privacy and do as little damage as possible. I didn't have to look far for the intruder.  _ Feyre _ , I thought as I felt her comforting presence. How odd that she can instill in me a calm like no other even in the middle of panic. Her emotions and thoughts were beyond me though. Once again, that barrier was preventing me from speaking with her. However she came to be in Cassian’s mind, it was not through the regular means. Her mind trembled and I knew she was struggling to keep a hold of Cassian. I wished I could tell her to be delicate but couldn’t risk it going any further. 

With an apology, I threw the weight of all my magic against her mind. I hoped she would recognize me in that brief moment but all I was left with was the space she left in Cassian’s mind when I threw her out. I withdrew instantly from his mind, breathing deeply from the effort. Cassian flexed his hand and fell into his seat. “We need to move...they know where we are,” his voice was hoarse like he’d been screaming. 

I raised my hand tiredly. “That was Feyre, Cass.” 

Both Mor and Cassian stared at me in alarm. “ _ That _ ?” he exclaimed. 

I nodded. “It seems her magic has awoken, after all,” and with it, all the problems that would generate. Like dropping into Cassian’s mind with the delicacy of a bull in a room of glass. “It didn’t seem like her at first but there is this...wall between our minds now,” I admitted what had been torturing me. They listened wordlessly. “My magic is back and I can hardly reach her. This barrier...it’s strong and magical.” 

“Then how did she get past it to go into Cassians?” Mor asked. “I mean it’s very roomy in there but in the empty, tumble-weeds kind of sense,” her eyes slid to Cassian and he glowered in return. A soft smile playing on her crimson lips. 

“If her magic just awoke, maybe it gave her that ability or power. Or it could be a combination of the magics she received when she was Made. Somethin we have not seen before. Either way, if that power is what we can expect then there might be a bloodbath over who gets control over it and her,” I rubbed my temples in aggravation. If there was any hope at convincing her that she’d never be a tool in my court, it was gone now. She’d forever think that the people surrounding her only wanted to use her abilities. 

“You have to tell her she is your mate,” Mor’s words had me instantly checking for the sound barrier I put up. She had even put her own barrier up as well as a precaution. That information was very valuable. Mates were strengths and weaknesses in the magical and physical sense. Taking someone’s mate was a good way to injure the other, mentally and physically. This was why the Codes of the Fae forbid mates from being separated forcefully, so they could not be used against another Court. But of course, this only made possessing another’s mate all the more attractive: especially in warfare. 

The selection of mates was mysterious but magical power was normally matched well. Personality had little to do with the bond yet most mates were lovers but my own parents were evidence that the bond didn’t always generate love too. Thesan had even just announced that his Peregryn Captain of the Guard and Commander of Peregryn aerial legions was his mate and his lover so it seemed that mates didn’t need to even be a part of the same species. I suspected this when Feyre had still been human but the bond hadn’t appeared until she was fae. Perhaps the mating bond only required magic to form. 

But mates were destined to live intertwined lives. It was how the Mother guaranteed that we would find our mates. If our mate was alive, we would meet them eventually. Kallias and Viviane were an example, living their whole lives with one another. Feyre and I being another where despite all odds, I had met her. Maybe I was destined to never be with her and that would be a cruel fate but I’d accept it all the same. I loved her unconditionally. Even if all my days were filled with longing for a woman I would never be with, at least I could befriend her and learn her mind. I could be happy with that. 

I refused the idea that Tamlin might also be her mate with venom though. I could hardly stomach the idea that Tamlin and Feyre would be mates in the sense that my parents were mates, a loveless and painful relationship. At least if Feyre was as powerful as I believed, she couldn’t possibly be mates with Tamlin. But the only alternative solution was to declare her as my mate and by the Codes of the Fae, remove her from the Spring Court. Yet the only option I had was one I refused to turn to. Feyre resented the idea of being a tool or a pawn and I would not make her one. Especially not to satisfy my own cowardly instincts that roared at possibly losing her. “You know I cannot-” 

“You were, Rhys,” Mor hissed, slapping a hand on the table. “You were going to tell her before this entire mess and you’re backing away now?” 

“She’s right. You can’t wimp out now,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders, lacing his fingers behind his head in an overly casual motion for someone whose mind was just invaded. 

“It’d be forcing her hand,” I replied. “With her magical power, she’d only see me as she does everyone else. Looking to take something from her and use it.” Mor and Cassian stared at each other from across the table, communicating non-verbally in a way I could hardly understand due to my own mind-walking abilities.  _ How did they know what each other meant?  _

“Are you going to wait until someone else uses her?” Cassian swung his head to face me. 

I recoiled as if he punched me. Anger poured out of me and I shouted, “I wouldn’t let that happen! I can protect her from that. If it comes to it...I’ll admit it.”

“If it comes to it?” Cassian scoffed. “How much of her free will do they have to take away before you’ll  _ admit it _ ?” he sneered. He was about to continue ranting when a presence at the tent opening silenced us. An Illyrian footsoldier nervously stepped into the tent. “What?” Cassian barked. 

The male drained of color. “General Cassian, a fae says she is here for you.” 

“I don’t know any fae women besides this one and Amren,” Cassian pointed a finger at Mor’s direction. “And Amren’s hardly fae and Mor’s barely a female.” Mor bared her teeth at him. 

The Illyrian didn’t budge. “She mentioned you by name, General.” 

Cassian dragged his hands over his face. Throwing them out in a dramatic display he rarely let others see, he agreed. “Fine.  _ Fine.  _ Show me to the fae lady, soldier.” 

“Barely female?” Mor scoffed when the tent flaps closed behind Cassian and the soldier. “I’m more female than anyone I know,” she shook out her long blonde hair. 

“I don’t know what he was talking about. You’re more of an  _ it _ , anyway,” I smiled. 

Mor was about to reply when Cassian crashed back into the tent. He almost knocked over the table from his speed. “She’s here!” he exclaimed, an untamed smile spreading over his face. His eyes were alight with boyish glee. I drew my eyebrows together, confused at the  _ she _ . “Rhysand you idiot.  _ Feyre _ ,” he added. A pause. Mor and I threw back our seats and practically chased Cassian out of the tent. My heart had stopped. I could practically still see her from our last encounter. Now, the possibility of her actually being here in the camp was running amok in my thoughts. Like we were children again, I was chasing after Cassian with Mor at my side. 

He stopped short and I quickly pulled Mor and Cassian back, into the shadow of a tent that I darkened magically. But that was all mechanical and routine. My eyes and attention was fixated on the figure, sitting tiredly atop her horse with a Urisk sitting behind her. Everyone else’s eyes were as well. A little under two hundred humans stood tiredly behind her. A couple of fae guards and a sizeable Urisk population all staring at Feyre. 

Feyre was looking down, speaking softly to someone on the other side of her horse. She wore a gown that had seen too many days of struggling and hard travel. Her hair was long, almost to her waist and bound haphazardly in a single braid down her spine. But when she turned, my eyes traced the large purple shadows under her blue ones. We all stood frozen in the shadows, watching in horror. The pallor of her skin and the fresh sheen of sweat making her glisten in the moonlight. How fragile her bones seemed, pushing at her skin like that, was at direct odds with the firm set of her jaw and hardness in her eyes. 

All of those details paled in comparison to the horrific image on her side. At the bottom of her left rib cage was a dress stained yellow and red, torn open to relieve a wound festering. The skin was swollen, taking a green tint. The cut looked so clean like someone had sliced through butter, or that if I pulled at the skin it would peel away like a layer of clothing. 

She swayed and the horse moved, revealing Tarquin standing on the other side. Cresseida standing behind Tarquin. “I’d...I would be happy to speak more on this but...I think we should see them settled, no?” Feyre said softly, voice tired.  _ What had they been saying?  _ I had been caught up in how she looked like a ghost to pay attention to their words. She sat atop that horse, looking much the same she did when Amarantha snapped her neck. Fear for her had effectively killed all my happiness at her arrival. 

“Of course. Cresseida, bring the party to our camp,” Tarquin ordered. “You will have to sit for dinner. I owe you much.” 

“Thank you but I...I need a healer first,” she shook her head, taking a deep but stiffled breath. 

Tarquin’s eyes widened. “That rot is you?” he choked back.  _ Rot?  _ I wanted to choke. 

“Yes...my side. I...I need a healer,” she bobbed her head. “Bron...please help me from...I’m very-” she didn’t have time to finish. She had already vomited over the side of the horse. Two fae I knew as Bron and Hart rushed off their own horses to carefully pull her from the saddle. She barely moved except to wrap her arms around Bron's neck. He hooked his arms under hers and Hart made sure her feet didn’t fall. Bron curled her into his arms and she groaned. Her injured side leaked more, a thick goop dripping into the grass. 

“Where is High Lord Thesan?” Bron bit at Tarquin. 

“Take her there,” Tarquin pointed to where the Dawn Court had set their camps. His eyes switched between Feyre and Bron. “I’ll get a healer,” he backed away, winnowing to find Thesan no doubt. Bron and Hart walked off in that direction, the Urisk who sat with Feyre on the horse following close behind. Feyre’s head leaned on Bron’s shoulder and just over, I could see the glaze in her eyes as they stared at the night sky. A drunken smile playing at her lips. 

That left Mor, Cassian and I in the aftermath. Like a male possessed, I walked from the shadows into the light of the camp in the direction Feyre had gone. “Rhysand where are you going?” Mor caught up with me. Cassian not too far behind. Both of them looking ready to scold or throttle me. 

“To see her,” I replied, swallowing. My finger pointing to where she was being carried further and further away from me. 

Cassian's eyes softened. Mor looked at the grass, shaking her head and cursing softly. “Rhysand you can’t...not unless you’re willing to make the claim,” Cassian’s hand stopped me from walking straight after her. I grimaced and looked away from my friends. I could hardly stomach this reality. 

** “Fine,” I nodded, nudging Cassian’s hand off my shoulder.  _ Azriel _ , I called.  _ I need a favor.  _ **


	42. Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Bron and Hart laid me on a cot with a tenderness they reserved only for me. Hart bit his lip, looking at me cradled in the bed. “You’ll be alright, my Lady,” Bron nodded his head with false confidence. Alis, unable to stand still, fled from the tent undoubtedly to drag the High Lord himself into my service. 

I smiled drowsily. “Liar liar,” I sang. It was hard to believe I could ever recover from the pounding in my head. I could hardly feel my feet. Wiggling my fingers was a task. Strangely, I was relaxed with that. We had made it and I was okay with the outcome. I was content. 

If I could wish for something, I’d want to talk to Rhysand again. He had a good sense of humor for the dark and dying. At least I could pass with a smile on my lips this time. Though I’d have to ask him to leave me dead. I don’t think I could come back a second time anyway. 

“I’m not lying, my lady. You’re stronger than anyone,” his eyes were too honest for me to meet. I let my head fall to the side and I stared at the white cloth lining the cot. They sat down beside me. Hart had found a towel and wetted it, dabbing at my forehead. 

“Can’t it be Feyre? I’m no lady,” I mumbled. 

“You’re our lady,” Hart said firmly. “You do not dress like one but you’re our lady.” I braved a weak smile. A fae I didn’t recognize strode into the tent, her eyes alighting on my prone body. Alis was just behind her. 

“You’ll need to leave,” she told my friends but her eyes never left my body. She had curly hair that rose in all directions, neatly pushed back with a beautiful golden headband. Her eyes were almost pink. She wore white robes that were tied at her wrists and waist so as not to get stained. 

Bron and Hart rose tiredly. “We will be outside my lady. If you need anything,” Bron’s tight smile was the last I saw before they disappeared out the tent flaps. I could almost see the starry night beyond before the view was shut to me entirely. 

“I am Truvia. One of Thesan’s healers. I was told this was an ash arrow,” she said, kneeling at the bedside. I nodded slightly. She took out a small knife and sliced through my gown. "An ash splinter would have drained you, it's a miracle your body could even heal it as completely as it had," she said as she pulled my dress away. Even if I had been awake enough to feel embarrassed about my nakedness, I could barely raise my arms to cover my chest. Truvia barely concerned herself with it. In fluid motions, she took my dress and laid a thin cotton sheet on top of my chest and waist, leaving my waist open to the chilly air. Despite my gooseflesh, I embraced the chill. It felt good against my hot skin. 

Her eyes paused on my body and I would have looked down had I not already known. Her eyes were drawn to the tattoo covering my left hand to my elbow. Her lips thinned before she remembered what she was here for. “I’ll need to give you something for the pain-” 

“No wine,” I hissed out, spittle dripping from my lips. She took a napkin and dabbed, nodding. “Sleeproot tea...please.” 

“No wine. You can’t have sleeproot tea either. You might die if your heartbeat slows too much. I’ll give you some drush root,” she said, opening a foul-smelling jar. If I could smell that root over my own body then it must be harvested from the depths of a cesspool. “I know, foul smelling,” she said as she did what I had not expected and dabbed it directly to my side. 

I screamed out in pain and jerked but without much control of my body, only my neck lifted from the bed. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way,” she tried to be gentle but there was nothing to help it. Her fingers stroked my side and the slightest pressure caused new sweats to break out all over my body. Every touch and I was one fire, screaming. White light exploded behind my eyelids. Each moment that I thought I’d surely pass out, she would take back her hand and then start anew. Only when I had screamed myself hoarse had she finished applying the poultice. I soaked the bed completely in sweat, heaving. 

“No more,” I panted, fresh tears leaking from my eyes. 

“It’s alright my lady. In a few minutes, you won’t feel a thing,” she whispered back, laying out silver tools. 

“I don’t know if I believe that,” I replied, staring blankly at the tent canopy and wishing I could at least feel a night air breeze. If I had to die tonight, could it not be out on some peaceful field watching the sky above? Why did I have to be clustered up in this hellhole of a tent? 

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll let High Lord Thesan know you question his expert healer’s knowledge.” 

“By all means. I’ll tell the High Lord myself,” I croaked. Sounds of a scuffle permeated the tent. I knew from the growls and low voice that it was Tamlin. Some part of me wanted to tell him to come in and the other part of me wished he’d go away. I would compromise much of myself just to feel some comfort.

Truvia, studying her weapons of torture, pursed her lips. “Would you like for your High Lord to be here?” 

I looked at the tent door as if I could see through it. Tamlin would be in a panic or a rage. Judging by the sounds, a sure rage. I knew he’d be pushing Bron and Hart to let him pass. He’d be telling them to obey their High Lord and threatening them with everything he had. Maybe he’d lash out at them for denying him entry and the Cauldron knew he was capable of that. He was strong enough to tear through them. If he really lost himself, he’d leave them in shreds and enter the tent with just a blood spattered tunic. 

But he’d kneel besides me and tell me sweet nothings. I knew he’d press a hand to my forehead and wipe away my sweat. In those emerald eyes I’d find relief and gratitude. I also knew the next words from his lips would be ruefully scolding me for saving those humans. For endangering my life so recklessly for people who hated me. He’d make me promise not to do something so  _ stupid  _ for the rest of my immortal life. And if I had been the Feyre he had fallen in love with, I would have nodded. Agreeing with him and telling him he needed to apologize for whatever thrashing he subjected Lucien too. He would agree in the moment just to appease me. I’d have to ask him to leave to tell my sisters and friends that I’m alright. He would press a kiss to my forehead before going. 

I clenched my eyes shut but tears leaked from them anyway. I knew that the High Lord outside my tent was not the High Lord I wanted by my side. I bit my lip and shook my head. She smiled sadly at me, wiping my tears away. “Not to worry, my lady. You’ll see him soon when you’re better.” 

I considered confiding in Truvia in a moment of sheer stupidity. I wanted to tell  _ someone  _ everything my mind had to process over the past few days. Surely if I kept it locked away, it would bubble out of me like a pot boiling over. But I kept my mouth shut. Truvia was my healer and could not help me if my injury wasn’t physical. 

Truvia was right in that I didn’t feel anything but pressure when the drush root finally took effect. I had her prop my head so I could only look away. The first sight of my blood and I had vomited. Though I had no strength to wretch over the bed so I threw up onto myself, almost choking in the process. The most positive result from barely eating over the past few days was that my vomit came up liquid and was easily wiped away. After that, She took her time in making sure my eyes could only see the white tent walls. 

I only felt her proddings and the odd sensation of her fingers dipping into my wound track. She cleaned the area thoroughly until a puddle of liquid had formed beneath my body. I was glad I couldn’t see it myself. The liquid was definitely colored a ruddy brown from all the blood and dirt that covered my body. At least I assumed as much when I looked at my dress that sat in a heap in the far corner. It had been pink and yellow which had been stained with dirt and sweat until it took on a light brown color. 

She had reapplied the drush root to make sure I wouldn’t feel her fingers when they sought out the piece of ash. Once again, she asked if I would take wine but I shook my head vehemently. Fae wine stimulated fae and wouldn’t depress me but I still hated it all the same. But when I felt her fingers slip inside the wound I was questioning the logic. The drush root stopped the pain but if she shifted too quickly, it felt as if an immense pressure was pulling me apart from the inside. My body, not used to this sensation, converted it into nausea and I threw up on myself twice more. 

She continued to press around before withdrawing the thorn in my side. She had washed it thoroughly before showing me the cause of all my misery. No longer than my pinky and barely thick enough to be called a splinter. She sutured me up, telling me that when the drush root effects wore away I would be very sore. I had primly told her I was quite used to that sensation. 

Truvia laughed then, rolling her eyes. “You’re a spitfire, for sure,” she smiled warmly. “When it does wear off, I will be back to reapply.” 

“Could I have some sleeproot tea then?” I asked. She frowned as she carefully changed my bedding.

“No, my lady. It slows your heart and after what your body has been through, I rather not depress it further,” she said, rising from my bedside to grab more blankets. My cot, having been soaked through, had three layers of thick woolen bedding added beneath me so I wouldn’t lay in my own wet filth all night. She took a washcloth and wiped away the thick chunks of dirt, brushing my hair and then changing the clothes that covered my body. After, she moved my body onto my right side so I could rest with my wound elevated. 

I nodded understandingly but tears still leaked from my eyes. Thankfully, I was turned onto my side and this hid my tears from her. 

I would have rather not be alone with my thoughts. She bowed and left me in the solace of my tent, telling me I would be able to have visitors in the morning after some rest. I barely had the energy to raise my hand to my cheeks to wipe away the tears so I laid prone on the bed, quietly sniffling. I tried to tell myself I had nothing to be sad over. I repeated those words,  _ I am alive when many are not. I cannot control my past but I can control my future,  _ until I had tuned them out and was numb to their effect. If I had been asked, I would have no answer to explain my sadness. The tears didn’t need a reason to come so I guess I should stop looking for one. 

I hadn’t noticed when the room shifted but once I did, it was unmistakable. I wanted to sit upright and peer around the room until I found the invader but I figured this might be best. Maybe I shouldn’t see them. I sniffled again and mustered all my courage, “If you’re here to assassinate me, I can tell you you’re quite late. I’ve been doing a good job myself.” The room settled back into silence. I heard no breathing. I could sense no magic but I knew there was someone in the room all the same. “I know you’re here. It’s insulting to pretend you’re not.” I couldn’t glance over my shoulder to see them. All the hair on my skin was raised under the eyes of a stranger I couldn’t positively confirm if they existed or not. 

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” a soft voice spoke. The voice was androgynous. I couldn’t place it but it sounded familiar anyway. 

“Does that also mean you aren’t here to kill me either?” I asked them. 

A soft laugh. “I am not here to kill you.” 

“What a relief,” I smiled, staring ahead. “Would you come to where I can see you? I’d be lying if I said this was comfortable for me. You’re making my skin prickle.” If I shivered, it would be quite painful with my wound. 

The person finally took on a more corporeal form. I could hear their breathing and their soft footfalls on the carpeted floor of the tent. They eased around the head of the bed and knelt down to face me. Scaled armor that shimmered blue in the dim tent caught my eyes. The next was the blue, round stones at the shoulders and center of his chest. His face was hard as stone but eyes warm like fire. His lips curled into a soft smile as I beheld the wings peaking over his shoulders, placing him in the Night Court. “Hello Feyre,” he dipped his head politely, kneeling before me. Despite him sitting right in front of me, I couldn’t make out the edges of his body. He simply faded into the darkness behind him like he wasn’t really here. 

“Hi,” I croaked. “Does Rhysand make it a habit to send you to spy on me?” I asked. His face of stone cracked into a guilty smile. Remembering the time at the Spring Court, “You were my shadow that day...that day with the refugees?” he nodded. “How long before that as well?” 

“A bit,” he shrugged. His shoulders were tense as I spoke. I thought he might try to disappear on me so I spoke quickly to keep him from leaving me. 

“You’ve known me for a while then and I do not even know your name.”

His eyes widened fractionally. “Azriel,” he choked out and if I was betting, and had more lighting, I’d say I could see the blush rise in his neck. 

“So Azriel, what can I do for you and Rhysand?” I smiled tiredly. My side had stiffened but I barely noticed, or cared. I felt warm for the first time since I left my sister’s home. The sight of the black Night Court clothes and armor was more comforting than I thought I’d ever experience again after the last few days. 

He returned my smile with a small one of his own. “Rhysand sent me to make sure you were alright because he could not come himself.” I didn’t ask but I didn’t have to. Rhysand coming himself would put me in between Rhysand and Tamlin. It would also raise questions that I couldn’t answer yet. “He said to tell you that Lucien and your sisters are safe. They’re in his camp and adjusting to the Night Court as best as can be expected,” I sighed out, thinking that was an awfully political way of putting the situation. Lucien, who hated the Night Court, and my sisters who hated fae in general would not be easy to please. It also made it abundantly clear how Tamlin had punished Lucien: by throwing him from the court. How that had also thrown my sisters from his protection did not go unnoticed either. 

“That was kind,” I whispered hoarsely, glancing away. How could I have the energy to feel embarrassed about what Tamlin had done himself? Azriel tentatively rested his hand against mine. I relished that small comfort and grasped his hand, smoothing over his rough skin with my thumb. 

His eyes glanced to our hands but he said nothing. “He’ll claim it was an extension of the bargain but he would have done it regardless of that.” 

“I know.” 

“Should I leave you to rest?” he asked. He didn’t make a move to leave or try to pull his hand from mine. He looked settled where he knelt before me and I knew he was prepared to stay. Instead of feeling like a burden, I felt looked after. He was here for me of his own will despite Rhysand’s request. 

“Please don’t,” I said quietly. He nodded and leaned his chin in his one free hand. "Can you tell Cassian I am sorry?" I asked, my throat swelling up. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "He knows you didn't mean-"

"Tell him I'm sorry," I choked out, tears falling freely. "I didn't know what I had done and it was too late. I didn't mean to hurt him." 

"You didn't hurt him, Feyre. But I will let him know," Azriel squeezed my hand. "You shouldn't worry about that right now. Try to rest." 

I shook my head, sniffling. “Tell me what it’s like to fly.” 

Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that. He flicked his eyebrows up momentarily before breathing out soft and slow, “It’s freedom. You’re surrounded by open air. Above the world, everything else seems small.” He painted for me what flying was like in vivid and colorful words. It was easy to imagine when he spoke so passionately about it. I closed my eyes to see the sky from his perspective. I slipped into an easy and dreamless sleep, smiling and hand tightly intertwined with his. 


	43. Confront

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently writing three chapters at the same time so please enjoy this mini chapter while I finish the remaining three! Probably will post all three tomorrow :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

It was Cassian who told us that Feyre had arrived and Elain was out the door in a flash. Once the words left his lips, she was past him in a whirl of excitement. When Elain rushed past him, Nesta ran after her and both of them were still dressed in their nightgowns with cloaks hastily thrown over. I had lunged for my sword and followed them out of the tent, trying to keep pace with Elain’s frantic shouting. Cassian had just stood still, watching us chase each other with amusement. I think he followed us over just to see what we would do, drawn to the circus we were steadily creating. 

In a manner only Elain could pull off as graceful as she did, she threw herself at Graysen. He was forced to drop everything in his arms just to catch her. Her arms almost wrenched his neck from the force and I was disappointed when he laughed after it. I stayed behind with Cassian, overlooking the scene as it unfolded. 

Nesta watched from the side of her glaring eyes. The rest of her attention was spent searching the crowd. “Where is Feyre?” she asked, turning those steel eyes on Graysen. I had my doubts that perhaps Nesta tolerated Graysen because he was human and that was why she always looked at me so suspiciously. From the way she stared at him, I knew that cold exterior was presented to most people. 

I was also nervously glancing about, hoping to see my friend. There was so much I wanted to share with her. But first, I wanted to hug the woman and then choke her for worrying me. 

Cassian looked like he was going to speak but quieted, eyes fixing on Cresseida across from us. “She was taken to a healer.” 

“A healer?” I squinted and then frowning. Not trying to reveal her abilities, I said, “Feyre is fae.”

“Aren’t you the smart one?” she glared at me, taunting grin playing at her lips. Cassian chuckled by my side. I flushed but still rolled my eyes. Cassian’s presence made my embarrassment more complete, undoubtedly saving this moment to repeat to Rhysand later on. “She smelled of rot. Her side was injured,” Cresseida cringed, her teal eyes catching the moonlight. But when Cresseida spoke, Cassian’s smile fell away into something made of stone. 

“What could possibly injure her like that?” Nesta snapped at Cresseida. I was wondering if Nesta was purposefully cynical of royalty. But I had personally witnessed Nesta flay Cassian alive with her eyes so I knew it couldn’t be aimed only at royalty. 

Cresseida casted a heavy glare at Nesta. “You are amusing but you are losing your appeal and someone will eventually lose their patience,” she threatened. Nesta only raised her chin higher, daring Cresseida to take a swipe. Cassian and I straightened with Nesta. His shoulders from that moment were tensed with readiness. 

“Cresseida, please. Feyre is her sister.” I didn’t focus on how Nesta used that attitude even when her sisters weren’t in mortal danger. 

“It was the ash arrow,” all eyes swung to Graysen, looking ashamed. Cresseida looked Graysen up and down, raising her eyebrows in astonishment. “She came to our manor to tell us of the army and my father shot her with an ash arrow. He thought she was attempting to trick us,” he quickly supplied. As he explained, he sent a beseeching gaze to Elain. She only stepped away from him, holding her hands to her chest. I could smell the salt of her unshed tears. Nesta quickly swept Elain into her arms, shooting a world-ending glare at Graysen. Everyone stared at the human in surprise. Everyone except for Cassian, whose brows were furrowed in dark understanding. 

“She tried to save you and you shot her?” I could have choked. Ash could kill fae easily. If Feyre was less powerful or if she wasn’t graced with Thesan’s healing ability, that could have killed her. She never would have defended herself against the human family. Especially not a human Elain had begged Feyre to save, making her promise it. 

“No, my father shot her.  _ I  _ believed her,” he defended, glaring at me. “Elain I didn’t know your sister was a fae. You should have told me-” He stepped towards her. My hand went to my sword and I stepped forward. Though I couldn’t hope to protect her feelings as this worthless human shattered them.

“She is my sister, Graysen,” Elain whispered, any hope in Graysen dying. 

“You’d have to be blind or stupid not to see the resemblance. What did you think? Feyre would try to lure you from her sister?” Nesta spat. “She was fulfilling her promise to Elain and now she is injured because of you.”

“You told me Feyre died!” he cried out, hands splayed at his sides. Elain flinched. I glanced to Nesta and Elain, trying to confirm his words. They only stared back at Graysen. 

“Would you have loved me if I told you?” Elain asked him quietly. Nesta’s hand on Elain’s shoulder was tight, like she could keep Elain from shattering. “Your father hates fae.  _ You  _ hate fae. I already loved you...I didn’t want to lose you. I made Feyre promise to save you…” 

“It was an accident, Elain,” he sighed. He kept taking steps towards her but Elain wasn’t reaching back. She remained firmly huddled in Nesta’s arms. “You never know with the fae. They can trick you. My father thought he was defending us.”

He reached out to grasp her hand but she didn’t return it. “That’s far enough,” I cautioned. Nesta was sending daggers at Graysen so I had no idea how he didn’t crumble. 

He flicked annoyed eyes to me. “I wasn’t speaking to you, fae. Leave us  _ humans _ to our business.” 

“His name is Lucien and he protected us since the Wall came down,” Elain’s quick defense surprised me. I only stopped the smile from forming out of respect for the severity in her voice. “He’s looked over us and I trust him, Graysen. He’s my friend.” 

“Elain, he is  _ fae _ . Remember what they did to Claire Beddor.” Graysen reminded. Each time Graysen opened his mouth, Nesta opened and closed her own. She was keeping herself from biting this man’s face off just for Elain’s sake. 

Images of the human woman’s flayed body still haunted my nightmares. Claire Beddor was one of the many memories I would never forget for as long as I lived. “And what of my sister? Would you have me never see Feyre?” Elain returned. He only searched out her eyes, lost. Whatever answer Elain had been looking for, she didn’t find in him. Elain shrugged away from Nesta’s arms and marched back to our tent, wrapping her arms around her waist. As she trudged past, she pointedly ignored Cassian and I’s solemn gazes. 

I waited until Nesta had finished glaring down Graysen to follow her back to the tent, a half-step behind her. “The next time he makes her cry, I want you to burn him alive,” she hissed, marching ahead of me. 

Cassian chuckled, staring down at both of his thumbs looped with his sword belt. “I’d like to see that, fox. I really would.” 

“It’s not a bad suggestion,” I shrugged, flashing him a rare smile. 


	44. Divide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There are disturbing/gory descriptions in this chapter. Please be advised and use discretion. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

Despite my amusement at Graysen’s expense, it all fled from me when I returned to the tent. Elain was curled on her cot while Nesta stroked her back soothingly. I counted my blessings that at least she wasn’t crying. 

Her eyes stared unflinchingly ahead, looking at the iron engagement band she wore. Elain didn’t care that it wasn’t gold or silver or studded with precious gems. She loved it because it came from Graysen. That made me admire Elain and loathe Graysen more. Fae didn’t use rings as the humans did. Tokens of affection were given when a fae proposed but that wasn’t exclusive to rings. Tamlin had proposed to Feyre with a ring, knowing it would have significance for Feyre. For humans, the ring was a heavily weighted symbol from what I had gathered; it not only declared marriage but status, wealth, and love. Knowing all of this only made me want to throttle Graysen until he gave Elain a ring that reflected her. 

I sighed when I realized where my thoughts had taken me. I couldn’t do this to myself and certainly not to Elain, whether she was Feyre’s sister or not. My feelings on her engagement and love of that undeserving human were irrelevant. My duty was to protect her and Nesta until Feyre could herself. Even after, I couldn’t involve myself further. I was an outcast among my own Court and now I had no home in the Spring Court. I could offer her nothing except my protection. 

I left the women to their privacy, shutting the tent flaps and standing at the entrance. When we first came to his camp, High Lord Rhysand had directed us to an Illyrian bookkeeper that proceeded to see to all our needs. The male had handed me a neatly bundled tent, cots, and blankets in excess before telling us where the tent would be set up. The bookkeeper then came back an hour later to make sure I hadn’t messed up his detailed directions. I was completely surprised by the layers of organization within the Night Court. 

The tent was spacious and had a curtain included for privacy. I left the curtain drawn most days so Nesta or Elain could disappear from the war camp and shut away their minds from this hell. Not that they could find much solace since the war camp was a noisy place to live. Every morning at dawn I would wake to find the rest of the camp already up, eating breakfast and running drills. I thought I’d have to be more vigilant of the Night Court fae and troops but they hardly looked at us. I suspected their High Lord and General threatening them within inches of their lives had something to do with this. Not even when I brought Nesta and Elain to the mess hall did a single soldier speak to us. They hardly glanced our ways. 

That didn’t stop Nesta from sending glares at any soldier she made eye contact with or Elain from staring only at her food for the duration of the meal. In the three days we had made the Night Court’s camp a home, we’d fallen into a routine that I begrudgingly admitted was comfortable. 

Though I still was weary. Everyday he didn’t call in on this favor was another day my nerves rattled. This was a bargain and it was only a matter of days before Rhysand would take advantage of it. The worst part being I would not be in a position to refuse. Tamlin no longer backed my position and authority in the Spring Court. Rhysand could ask me to stick a needle through my good eye and I’d be hard pressed to refuse him if I wanted to keep Nesta and Elain safe. But Rhysand never came. After the first night, he’d assessed all three of us with those violet eyes and then let us inhabit his camp in relative peace. At breakfast, he’d glance over to us but nothing further. 

Azriel and Morrigan followed Rhysand’s example. Cassian had ignored it wholeheartedly. He’d sit by us during meals and then invite me to train with the other Illyrians. I had to refuse those offers because I protected Nesta and Elain. Cassian respected that. 

Despite being the commander of all of Rhysand’s armies, Cassian acted like he had all the time in the world to spend with us. Elain barely spoke to him directly. Nesta refused to acknowledge him altogether. That left me as designated recipient of all things Cassian. Which, albeit, wasn’t terrible. He was entertaining. 

But even Cassian left us to our own devices during the day and most nights. 

It made me feel wretched. I regretted the accusations I threw at Feyre. The thoughts I had of her spending time with Rhysand. Every passing day, I repeated those words I had said to her about spying on the Spring Court and each day they grew more bitter-sounding and hateful. I had to finally admit to myself that the Night Court had been judged unfairly. I had judged my closest friend unfairly as well. 

Once she had arrived at camp, I needed to speak with her. But with her injury, I didn’t know when I’d get the chance. I waited anxiously on the dawn to come. My plan was simple. When Nesta and Elain were dressed, I would camp us outside Feyre’s tent in the Dawn Court and wait her out. Her sisters would be just as anxious to see her and we could all wait nervously together. 

But dawn hadn’t even risen before these plans were thrown away entirely. Instead, Tamlin’s tall form dressed in Spring Court green marched into the Night Court camp. A couple of minor lords trailing behind him. They looked painfully out of place among the dark colors. I thought he would be passing through but he’d spotted me and marched in my direction. 

I straightened at the realization, studying the dark marks under his eyes. Relief that many of the camp inhabitants were still asleep was infinite. They all stopped before me and each pair of eyes looked me over with disdain. “Feyre arrived in the camp today,” his voice was deep. “She was injured. An ash bolt struck her.” 

“I heard,” I didn’t flinch when I met his angry eyes. His jaw was taut and I could hear him grind his teeth. 

“Did you also hear her screams?” he asked quietly. I continued to glare at him. “Her injury and pain are your fault. You did that to her when you abandoned your duty.” 

“I wish I could have spared her that. But she chose that path. I wasn’t going to force her to go-” 

“It wasn’t your decision,” he grit out. His fangs were enlarged. This time, faebane couldn’t save me from Tamlin’s wrath. “I gave you the protection of the woman I loved and you walked away from it to save yourself.”

This fae male had seen me in the days following Jesminda’s death. He knew what leaving her behind had done to me. But instead of getting angry, I could only feel concern. He was becoming someone I did not recognize. “You know that isn’t true, Tamlin. Feyre chose that path for herself. She isn’t yours to shut away so she can be safe,” I sighed, placing my hands on my hips. 

“It’s my responsibility to see her safe,” he shook his head. “I thought you of all people would understand that. I gave you that duty while I was at war so I knew she would be safe. You protected her Under the Mountain and I thought I could trust you to do the same now. Three days I sent out patrols to find her and they could find nothing. I thought Hybern had found her. Do you know what they are doing to the fae they capture, Lucien?” 

“Torturing them,” I bit out. “I can imagine-”

“You can’t,” Tamlin’s eyes stopped me. He was no longer seeing me, drawn into his memories. “You didn’t see West Maritch. You haven’t seen the remnants of the Summer Court’s towns. Every fae is like a game for Hybern. They’re inventing new ways to kill and maim. Fae coming back with missing eyes because a soldier lost a game at darts. They found a family and made the parents watch while they drowned the children in the Andros. They sterilized an entire village, Lucien. There were no females left alive because they had all bled out from having their wombs removed. The males wished they were dead as we found them, holding their manhoods. Do not tell me you can imagine the horrors Hybern has been committing,” Tamlin stepped closer until he was near chest to chest with me. “That is what could have become of Feyre and you would have been responsible for it.” 

I wanted to crumble. I knew that Feyre had been in danger because of me. I wanted to plead and tell him how sorry I was just to repair this damage. For all the history Tamlin and I had, I wanted this more than anything. But for the sake of the Feyre I had come to know, I resisted appeasing him. She had transformed before my eyes and I refused to lose that friend. 

It was how Feyre looked when she was picking up supplies, climbing into the crevice and emerging all bright-eyed with a sack of flour. When she would lock herself away in the library to work herself to the bone to learn to read and write but emerge tired and pleased. The night the Wall came down and how she patiently fed her sister’s bread and cheese until they could themselves. Her hardened blue eyes when she said that she needed to try and save any human life she could. Even in that moment, I could see the fear she felt. She knew there was the risk of failure but she resisted it anyway, knowing it was the right course to take. 

Resolve was bitter on my tongue. I bit my lip and swallowed, “You cannot put her in a cage, Tamlin. You’ll kill her just for trying.” He watched me with devastation in his eyes. His mouth open and eyes wide in horror. His breathing was ragged as if I had struck him. “You can’t keep her safe from everything. Not from Amarantha or Hybern. The best you can do is teach her how-” 

His fist had collided with my temple so hard I saw white. The impact had caused my knees to go weak and I stumbled, clutching my face. All my bones rattled from the impact. Hot liquid gushed down the side of my face. His engagement ring to Feyre had shredded my skin. My jaw was rattling still. I could hardly feel my temple through all the ache. My inner cheek had been sliced open on my teeth. I spat blood onto the grass. I checked for my mechanical eye just to make sure it hadn’t come out. But I could not see through it. 

“You know nothing, Lucien. Your recklessness killed Jesminda and it almost did the same to Feyre.” Tamlin’s voice was hoarse. He glowered at me in my crouch. 

I forced myself to straighten and meet his eyes once again, this time only through my right eye. “I do not recognize you Tamlin. And neither will Feyre.” 

“You can remain with Rhysand and his savages. Loyalty like yours fits in nice with Amarantha’s whore,” he spat on the ground before my feet. “I’m here for Feyre’s sisters. I’ll see to their return to the Spring Court. But you...your life is forfeit if you step foot in my Court, Lucien. Or even my camp. I’ll draw and quarter you for it myself.” 

I huffed, wiping the blood from the side of my face. Anger was my friend and it filled my veins with glorious flame. “I remember when Amarantha first met you. How infatuated she was over your beauty and strength. She used to sit at the dinner table and save a seat for you. She even remembered how you hated licorice and always made sure to have your favorites.” 

“I tire of your ramblings,” he made a move to step by me but I placed a hand on his chest, forcing him back or possibly getting burned as fire licked at my fingertips. 

“When she placed that curse on us, I could not understand how someone who claimed she loved you could hurt you. Even when she was beating Feyre in front of the entire realm, she still believed she loved you,” his eyes were hard. Feyre had been a naive, love-sick human and Amarantha sicked the Attor on Feyre, gluttonous on Feyre’s blood. Amarantha didn’t even recognize her own self in Feyre’s love for Tamlin, or perhaps she did. “You’re exactly like Amarantha now. Hurting the people you love the most.” 

If there was any moment Tamlin had understood what I said, I could not see it. I could not see my longtime friend in those cold green eyes. “I will not hesitate to remove your head from your shoulders here Lucien. I’d subject myself to the High Lord’s judgement and I do not think they’d find me guilty.” 

“You think I care for my life, Tamlin? Make your threats,” I spat blood, not caring that it splattered part on his tunic and part on mine. “You won’t take Elain or Nesta. You can’t keep Feyre from me or from her sisters or anyone she feels so much a speck of love for. I won’t let you.” The Night camp was waking around us, sounds of grumblings and the kitchens coming to life filled the air. Dawn had come and passed, the morning light casting us all in yellow light. 

“Feyre is my betrothed. Her sisters are coming with me back to the Spring Court.” He motioned and the minor lords approached the tent, to force Nesta and Elain out. I drew out my fire and let it circle the tent, raising it until it was at my knees. 

The air whispered around me and from a shadow, stepped Azriel. His shadows licked at the air and sizzled against the fire of my flames. I felt cold standing next to the shadowsinger. His hand was resting lightly against truth teller on his belt. “They won’t. They are guests of the Night Court and you cannot forcibly remove them. Leave before we force you.” Tamlin's murderous glare at Azriel didn't phase the shadowsinger. He stared blankly in return. 

With the weight of the entire Night Court behind us, Tamlin was forced to retreat. Only when he had vanished from sight did I let my flames go. Azriel’s eyes watched them fade with cold reserve. Finally, he turned to me and assessed. “Come. We need to speak with Rhysand,” though my flames were gone, he stepped carefully over the ring of burnt grass. His shadows receded into a dark aura. 

“Nesta and Elain-” 

“Morrigan is with them. Come,” he gestured, somewhat impatiently. I glanced at the tent, wondering when that had happened. 

“Why did you do that? Claim them for the Night Court?” The Spring and Night Court had just drawn lines over the Archeron sisters. I stared at him like I could pick the reasons from his silent figure. Though Azriel was made of ice or stone and he would give me no answers he didn’t wish me to know. 

Seeing that I would not budge, he sighed, “To keep them free.” 


	45. Claim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for combining three chapters into two :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Truvia applied four more coats of drush root before dawn. Each time she came in, Azriel had faded into nothing and waited until she left. When dawn finally did come, he left me in the morning light. 

When I woke again in the afternoon, my eyes opened to see long blonde hair dangling over my head. The blonde hair that women would kill for since it curled and caught the sunlight. It was liquid gold, beautiful and iridescent. “I’m glad you’re finally awake,” the voice chirped. Her voice was sweet and light. I knew if she sang, she’d have a wonderful voice. Teal eyes, bright with life, peered into mine. “We need to see you cleaned, my lady,” she grinned like she was a fellow conspirator. It was her smile that caught me off guard. For such happy, intelligent eyes and shining beauty, her red lips distorted it. They warped into a smile I had often seen on Amarantha’s face, particularly when she knew she would be drawing blood soon. 

“I don’t know you,” I inched back into the bed, willing the woolen blanket to absorb me. 

The grin widened. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m Ianthe, a High Priestess,” she announced, giving a little bow of her head. A blue stone sat on her forehead, wrapped in a silver circlet.  _ Who gave you a crown?  _ I mentally questioned. “Come on, my lady, we are heading to the Andros for a bath,” she took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

I winced from my side. The sheets I had been covered with fell away to reveal deep purple bruises covering my left side. Though only the sutures poking from my skin showed where the wound track had been. I was healing fast but still tender. Her eyes studied my naked body like I was a cake and she was thinking where to slice me first. I bit my lip and suffered through it. I wouldn’t let her cower me. She flicked an eyebrow up in amusement. 

All amusement vanished at the sight of my tattoo. Her gaze turned into fear and then anger that she quickly stowed under a guise of intentness. She threw a yellow nightgown over my head, tugging my arms through the sleeves, and then pushed me into the bright afternoon sun. “What a scrawny thing you are,” she eyed my body through the gown. My legs looked so scrawny after the fever and I resented them for it. I had built muscle in the time I spent with Cassian and Rhysand. Even more so from all the supply shipments I had lifted and towed back to the Spring Manor. Now it seemed like the illness had swept all that progress away. I’d have to eat twice as much to regain it. “I guess that is a part of the appeal for Tamlin,” she smiled brightly. 

I stared at her blankly. Her bright attitude was at odds with her words. I felt like a dog trapped in a cage, being taunted with a bone only to be beaten when I reached for it. “Aren’t you supposed to lead me to the Andros?” 

She stiffened and nodded, leading the way through the tent flaps. The bright sun bore down on me immediately and I squinted. “Andy and Rob are going to be guarding us today. Your others are resting. It was a tiresome journey,” she explained while she pulled a horse forward to me. She jerked her head to the horse. “Come on, my lady, we need to see you clean.”

I stiffly accepted and climbed slowly onto the horse’s back. I glanced about for Bron and Hart. Or Alis. Or anyone. I knew it was pushing my luck to look for any Night Court fae. All I saw were the fae and peregryns from the Dawn Court. Ianthe tugged the horse’s bit forward and I jolted, my hand latching onto the saddle to stay upright. My core had been so thoroughly abused that riding was painful. She walked us straight from the camp and into the woods, circumventing the entire camp in the process. I glanced towards camp to see if I could recognize anyone but we were separated by thick brush. 

Once we were at the river, she was quick to assist me in washing. She had no sooner ripped my nightgown off than urged me into the chill water. “I do not need you to wash my body,” I hissed as she scrubbed my arms. She walked straight into the Andros behind me, ignoring how her blue robes got wet. I caught the bar of soap in her hand, nauseated by the smell of roses. “Alis lets me use lavender. I don’t like the smell of roses,” I told her, not caring in the slightest how she reacted. Her boldness was wearing me thin. It wasn’t at all like Cassian’s sly sarcasm or Rhysand’s playfulness. 

“Tamlin preferred you smell of roses today,” she paused, holding the bar of soap in her hand. “I am sorry if I am impertinent, my lady. I didn’t realize I’d be serving you today and I...I got excited,” she lowered her eyes to the water. I knew her apology was insincere but without much proof, I was forced to nod in acceptance. She smiled brightly and continued to scrub me down. By the end, I felt like a ragdoll that had been flayed alive. My skin was raw and bright pink with irritation. Even the water of the Andros stung more than relaxed me.

The irritation from the river water was nothing in comparison to the gown Ianthe pulled from a satchel. Not as fine as the gowns crafted for me in the Spring Court but still nicer than I had expected from a war camp. It was a soft cream with pink flowers falling from the shoulders down the bodice of the dress to rest at the trim. “I do not think I can wear that. The bindings would be painful,” I motioned to my side. I shivered as I stood naked in the water. 

“I’ll tie them loosely. It is all I brought,” she replied easily, beckoning me from the water. I forced her to give me the towel for my own drying. Her roughness would surely peel off the skin left on me. When she started to tie my dress, I had to remind her not to tie as tight. She gave the barest of laughs before finishing it with a bow. My eyes rounded to orbs when I saw the silk white gloves she then pulled from the horse’s bag. 

“I don’t want gloves,” I shook them away. 

She frowned. “But...your…” her eyes dropped to my tattoo. She gave me a pointed look. 

“I’m not going to hide my skin,” I dared her with my eyes to challenge me. With every ounce of my willpower, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. I channeled Nesta’s commanding gaze into my own and leveled it on her. I didn’t give her the time to interrupt me with rebuttal, “I want to see my sisters.” 

She opened and closed her mouth, pursing her red-stained lips. “Tamlin has been waiting all morning to see you, my lady. He would have sat outside your tent all night had he not been forced away to see to other duties,” she reasoned. “Could you see your sisters after him?” she asked. “Just ease his worries?” she tried. It was difficult to act with her. I could hardly understand the duality in her mannerisms. Her eyes expressed the right emotions but her mouth didn’t follow suit. 

“I’m sure he can wait a few more moments. They are my sisters. I want to make sure they are alright,” I crossed my arms over my chest. Andy and Rob could drag me and I’d still not comply. 

“Your sisters are at the Night Court’s camp. Tamlin has expressed you are not to go there,” she returned finally. 

The breath had been knocked from me. “They are my sisters,” I replied. 

“And they have chosen to stay at the Night Court. High Lord Tamlin did not see it fit to forcibly remove them since they had found it to their liking,” her eyebrows lifted with contempt. “I hardly think it’s-”

“I do not care what you think,” I snapped. Having Alis, Bron and Hart removed from me and replaced with these strangers had backed me into a corner. I wouldn’t comply so easily. I knew a trap when I saw one. “I’ll see them when I want.”

Her shoulders straightened. Her eyes were cold. “Tamlin had strictly forbidden you to enter their camp without him.” 

“Where is he?” I demanded, pulling myself up despite the pain into the saddle. I didn’t wait for an answer. I snapped the reins and enjoyed her shouts after me. They could run to keep up for all I cared. 

I had not the slightest idea how far or close the war camp was but I kept riding anyway. The tents came into view soon enough and I burst from the forest. Heads whipped to watch me as I rode by but I didn't see them. Green tents surrounded me and I chose the largest one, knowing Tamlin would be inside. Ianthe and her guards were just behind me when I slid gingerly from the horse’s back. She was calling after me but I had already snapped the tent aside, striding in. 

Tamlin was sitting with some minor lords, speaking in low tones but when I entered he froze completely. His eyes widened at the sight of me and I found his expression terrifyingly unreadable. He dismissed the others with a wave of his hand. They murmured greetings to me and briefly beowed before scurrying away. Ianthe burst in right after me. “I am sorry, my lord, I tried to stop her-” 

“Ianthe, leave us,” he nodded curtly, not even meeting her eyes. The indignant huff she gave before striding from the tent gifted me a small satisfaction. 

When we were alone, he rose slowly like if he moved too quickly I would disappear from his view. His eyes took in every inch of me. He was a starving man and I was a meal. Instead of exciting me, I became fearful. His arms tentatively encircled my waist and I waited, stiffly in his arms. Every moment he paused I would wait for him to pounce. To strike. He leaned his forehead on the crown of mine and breathed me in with long inhales. I flinched at the contact. His grasp tightened just barely and I stiffened. “You were missing. For days, I sent patrols to find you and they couldn’t. Only the ashes Hybern had left. I was...I thought the worst, Feyre,” as he spoke, his arms hardened to the point of pain and tears came unbidden. 

My anger was softening in the face of his desperation. “I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“I can’t lose anymore people, Feyre. I...I won’t survive it. If something had happened to you, I don’t know what I would do.” 

“Tamlin, that isn’t true. You have so many people. Lucien loves you-” 

“Lucien  _ left  _ you,” he seethed back and once again, tightened. I wriggled until I placed my hands on his arms, urging him to release. “I told him to keep you safe and he left you to Hybern’s army. You could have been captured or killed, Feyre.” 

I shook my head, pushing his arms away. “I told Lucien to leave me. I couldn’t leave those people-” 

“The people that hate you? That human who shot you even as you tried to save his worthless existence?” Tamlin sneered. “You would have risked your life,  _ our  _ future for that...that human?” 

“Of course I would,” I shot back. “I was human...would you call my existence worthless?” 

“No, but you’re different-”

“I’m not.” 

“You are and you can’t risk yourself like you have been.”

“Those people needed my help and I wasn’t-”

“Those people hated you. Their lives are insignificant compared to yours,” he cupped my cheeks and I shook him off. His eyes widened in worry. “Feyre, you need to see that your life means more to me than theirs do. I won’t apologize for valuing you over them.” 

“But you can’t keep me away from the people I love. Ianthe told me you won’t let me see my sisters because they were in the Night Court’s camp. How could you expect me to listen to that?” 

His eyes turned cold when he looked away. “They’ve changed Feyre. They belong with those savages.” 

“Those savages? They are people too, Tamlin.” 

He whipped around to face me. “Even High Lord Rhysand?” he shot back. “Even when he drugged you and dressed you like some  _ object _ ? Made a fool of you before the entire court?” My cheeks flamed at the memory. There were reasons I would not touch fae wine ever. 

“I do not justify his actions but I hardly think if I judged everyone for how they behaved Under the Mountain than I’d have to kill myself for my own crimes,” I barked back. He closed his mouth. He leaned on his table for support. “I killed two fae, Tamlin. I drove a knife through your chest!” I was shouting now. Emotions I had thought long since buried had resurrected themselves. “If you judge Rhysand for his actions then you surely must condemn me for mine.” 

“I can’t, Feyre,” he shook his head, laughing quietly. “I love you. These past few days have only confirmed it. I’ve driven myself crazy with images of you in Hybern’s clutches...what he’d do to make you suffer. You would be unrecognizable. He would erase you. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let another day go by where you aren’t mine. I’ve learned I cannot trust those near to me but I won’t risk losing you again.” 

He was once again stalking closer to me. I backed away. “Tamlin, I don’t understand…” I raised my hands to keep him from me. My heartbeat raced. 

“I don’t want to wait until the end of the War. I don’t want another day of calling you my betrothed.” 

“Tamlin...I...I don’t know what you are saying. You’re scaring me. I don’t recognize you-”

“I want you to be my wife and I’m done waiting to call you mine. I’ve called Ianthe here to preside over our union,” he kept rambling, ignorant of the horror crossing over my face. “I know it isn’t the wedding you would have wanted but it doesn’t matter. You’re mine and I won’t go another day without you-” 

“Now? We are in the middle of a war,” I spluttered. “Is that why I’m wearing white?” I looked down at my dress, gripping the fabric that threatened to strangle me now. 

His eyes were alive with madness. “Yes, Feyre. I won’t wait till Hybern makes his next move. I want you to be mine.”

“To be yours? Being your wife won’t make me your property anymore than I am now,” I shook my head, backing away. 

He reached out, snatching my forearm in his and jerking me towards him. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

“No. I mean it-”

“Feyre tell me you’re mine,” his thumbs were pressing so hard into my forearms. Blood rushed in my ears and his voice was just a faint rumble. His eyes were wide with terror. It siezed us both. Ice was coating my veins and nerves. I was going to choke. My heart would stop. He kept mumbling. Praying that I’d be his and stay with him until we were nothing together. My arms stung. I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. He kept speaking, asking, ang begging. His voice was frantic. “Feyre, please-”

“No,” I spat out. “No I won’t marry you.” He stopped mid-sentence. Watching me quietly. I tried to take my arms from his grasp but he held me firmly. “I am not in love with you. You are not the male I fell in love with and I am not the woman you asked to marry you. I think we’ve known this for a while.” 

He scoffed. “You don’t mean this.”

I shook my head. “I do. You need to let me go."

“No, this isn’t you speaking. This isn’t you.” 

“Tamlin, I do.”

“No,” he shook his head firmly. His posture straightened and tensed. He was done begging. “This isn’t you. I should have known. I thought if I didn’t react to the bargain he would lose interest in you. But it only left you vulnerable-”

“What are you talking about?” I gasped. I continually attempted to tug my arms from his steadily tightening grasp. His claws had come out and they sliced at my skin. He was tearing me to pieces and he wasn't even taking notice. “Are you talking about Rhysand? What has he to do with any of this?” 

He quieted, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s Rhysand to you?” 

“Since having met him through the bargain, yes. It is.” 

“I was willing to ignore it,” his eyes dropped to the tattoo on my left arm. “I thought he’d lose interest eventually. I could...accept whatever he asked you to do and that he’d eventually leave you be,” he practically gagged. “I was so grateful that I had you alive that as long as you were safe...alive...I could come to terms with whatever he wanted from you. I had been so stupid. Thinking he’d leave your mind unharmed-”

“Rhysand never touched me. He never would have done that to me,” I whispered in horror. My fears were manifesting so quickly I barely had the time to voice them. Another stark realization chilled my bones. “You would have let him...use me? You knew that I was with Rhysand for the bargain and you...let me go?” my voice was the only sound in the tent. 

He breathed out. “I just wanted you safe and you were. You came back. You always came back-”

“Because Rhysand never hurt me,” tears were falling now. Mixing with the blood streaming steadily from my arms. My dress was stained with red now, mixing with the pink rose petals. “He didn’t ever touch me or my mind. Not once." The rumbling noise clouding my mind was turning into a dull roar. 

Tamlin’s eyes were far off. “I was willing to accept that the bargain was private. I didn’t really want to know what went on between you two but I could be happy with having you by my side. But now, I need to know…” he looked down to meet my eyes. I could see the unraveling threads of his mind. He believed Rhysand had turned me against him with every fibre of his being. “Feyre. You need to tell me what happened during the bargain.” 

“I…” Every memory I had with Rhysand was flooding back into my mind. The sight of him in my bedroom, leaning against the windowframe. How he stood looking over Pacifico with a world-ending sadness in his eyes. Him begging me to save their lives and work with him. Promising to bring me to the Night Court one day. How nervous he had been when I was going to meet with Cassian. Each thought I had of Rhysand had been precious to me. They acted as the threads holding my life together when I was ready to fall apart. Tamlin's ramblings tainted them. His fears and suspicions were tearing each moment to shreds. 

“What did he make you do?” 

I didn’t have time to answer. The tent flaps were open and I squinted into the blinding light. Three fae males walked in. One of them was Rhysand. I choked out a sob at the sight of him. Even in the face of Tamlin's accusations, I couldn't withhold my relief. Rhysand's face hardened as he took in Tamlin and I. His eyes traveling from my bleeding arms to my tear-stained face. I could feel the turbulence of his mind against mine with the hatred inside it that promised a quick death. His entire body was poised, ready to attack. Only when his eyes met mine did he still. His mind turned into a soft stroke against mine. 

_ Feyre. I need you to know this wasn’t planned.  _

I nodded slowly but my eyes and fears were turned back on the male who held me painfully to him. “What are you all doing here? Get out,” Tamlin hissed. “This is bold even for you Helion to step foot unannounced in my tent.” 

“This is Tarquin’s land, Tamlin. Release her,” the male called Helion said, sternly. 

“What is this?” Tamlin said slowly but he didn’t let go of me. If anything, his grip got tighter and more blood streamed out. His hands were coated in it’s slickness. 

Rhysand stepped forward. His eyes were murderous as they met Tamlin’s. “Thesan is my witness. Helion will validate my claim.” Tamlin was glancing wildly between the two High Lords. His eyes were bleeding red. Rhysand turned to meet my eyes. His violet orbs were sorrowful and apologetic. Even as he spoke, he looked remorseful. I could hardly breathe while I stared at him. “Feyre is my mate and by the Codes of the Fae, you will release her now,” his voice hardened to steel, eyes cutting towards Tamlin. 

No one breathed. And then the room erupted into chaos.


	46. Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

Cassian had known it. Azriel as well. Mor had known from the moment I told her of my mate that it would come to this. Deep down, I must have known it myself that Feyre and I colliding would be painful. The Cauldron had not gifted us time to be with one another where the weight of the world wasn’t constantly forcing our hands. But I had resisted it anyway just to give her more time. My father had mated my mother the same day he laid eyes on her, no time and no choice given, and she had suffered. With Feyre, I told myself, it would be different. I was wrong. 

The longer I waited for Feyre also allowed Tamlin to have unchallenged power over her life. Everytime she brushed it off and continued to strive despite Tamlin’s need to control her told me to trust her to see the truth for herself, to leave him of her own free will. My reluctance to act had forced this situation and I was entirely to blame. 

It took Azriel storming into my tent with Lucien in tow to push me to act. Fixing the fox with an icy glare, he pressed Lucien to tell me of Tamlin’s behavior. My stomach dropped when I saw Lucien with a trail of blood from his temple down to his tunic. A black bruise already in the making, spanning his cheek to forehead. His mechanical eye was motionless in it’s socket. It was when Lucien spoke, my lungs collapsed. I was heaving by the end of his story. My hands trembled as I struggled to contain my own magic, dying to be released.

Lucien nervously shifted in front of me, unsure if he should prepare to defend himself. “I didn’t recognize him,” Lucien finished. 

I sneered, flexing my hands. Cassian eyed me but said nothing. Tamlin’s behavior could not be ignored or brushed off. The male was spiraling and while he did, I would not allow him to destroy Feyre in the process. 

Waiting for the right moment was too late. I rose to my feet, trying to dissipate the anxious energy inside of me. My heart beat was loud in my ear. The thrill of a looming fight was seizing my mind and made coherent thought near impossible. All I could see was Tamlin trying to cage Feyre. He first would try by keeping her away from the people she loved, that supported her freedom like Lucien. When he still did not have complete mastery of her, he would destroy anything that gave her happiness. Until she learned to look for him for everything and he could be satisfied he’d trained her well. Though I knew Feyre like I knew the back of my hand. She’d fight and resist him. Though all Feyre's courageousness meant nothing when she resisted the idea of hurting the people she loved. Tamlin wouldn’t pull his punches though. She’d disobey and he’d quickly punish her; with Tamlin’s strength, the difference between her life and death was nonexistent. 

“What are you going to do?” Lucien asked, confused at the anger radiating off of me. “You can’t kill him-”

I cut him off with a glare. “Unlike Tamlin, I know violence is unacceptable.” Lucien looked to his feet. I looked inward right then, straight to where Feyre had made a home inside me. She had woken up and that was all I could gather. _I need to move fast_ , I reprimanded. “I need to see Helion. Prepare Nesta and Elain to possibly leave the camp. I’m not sure it will be safe for them to remain either. Azriel, send word to Amren to expect us winnowing in.” 

“Where they go, I do. Where do you expect to move us?” Lucien declared, refusing to be apart from the sisters. I wondered how such a male survived in the Spring Court: one who protected fiercely but resisted the appeal of absolute control. “What could Helion possibly-” Lucien cut off, watching me for a moment. With the abilities I suspected he inherited from his father, he came to the realization by himself. His one natural eye widening until I could see the gold flecks in them. “She’s your mate,” he sucked in.

I tensed. Cassian and Azriel stiffened, regarding Lucien in a new light. I ground out, “You’ll keep that to yourself until we know she is safe.” There are many people who will know exactly how to hurt me after today. 

I left them all in the tent, seeking out the Day Court’s newly erected camp. I barely touched the ground. I winnowed to Helion’s place directly, entering without any preamble. If I didn’t do something, my heart would burst. Helion was blessedly awake and sipping a hot drink at his table. Looking casual in loose fitting white robes, a large golden spear resting on his chair betraying that nonchalance. Though he was possibly the only High Lord that did not ward his tent against people winnowing in. 

“Rhysand?” he raised a brow. “The stress of the battlefield getting to you?” My fear had rendered my tongue useless and closed my throat entirely. Instead I stood there staring at him, trembling with rage and terror. He slowly rose to his feet as he took me in, taking in every detail. He was as serious as I was when he asked, “What has happened?”

When I could trust my mouth to speak, I uttered, “You will verify my claim. Thesan will act as my witness.” As I spoke, Helion froze. 

I refused to leave this up to chance and ask one of the seasonal High Lords. I would not fail Feyre over inter-court politics. 

“What Code are you enacting, Rhysand?” 

Helion immediately latched onto my meaning. There were only so many Codes. His mind reached the same conclusion as I spat with venom, “The High Lord of Spring has my mate and I have plenty of reason to believe he has already hurt her.” 

Helion didn’t waste time with questions or doubts. He didn’t ask for proof of the bond or look for it either. He picked up his golden spear and winnowed us to Thesan’s camp. Helion’s relationship with Thesan was much stronger than mine. With a single look of urgency, Thesan was following us to the boundaries of the Spring camp. 

We were blocked from entering Tamlin’s camp by winnowing directly. Every step we took through the court was scrutinized. Fae rising to their feet to study the three High Lords marching through their camp, weapons raising slowly. Not a single soldier dared to intercept our path even as we stopped before Tamlin’s tent. Even the two guards standing at the opening watched us wordlessly. I was grateful they had a shred of self-preservation because I had none left for myself. 

The tent itself had a ward placed on it. Helion broke it in half a thought and all the screaming inside filled the quiet camp air. His last accusation rang out clearly, “What did he make you do?” The entire camp watched us in horror, completely unaware to the monster they sweared fealty to. 

Thesan and Helion led the way in, attempting to block me from rushing in and murdering a High Lord. I promised Lucien I was different but the struggle inside the tent made me question the value of passivity in the face of such cruelty. Tamlin was dragging Feyre towards him by her forearms but she resisted, throwing all her weight into pulling away from him. His control had already lapsed in the angry, red slices and cuts that littered her skin. Some had healed and others were weeping blood as he pressed sharp talons into the flesh. 

Only when Tamlin had snapped to look at us did Feyre pull her eyes off of him to meet mine. Her blue eyes were puffy. Tears flowed down her swollen cheeks. Her hair was still wet and long tendrils clung to her forehead and neck. She was dressed in white, now quickly staining pink. She sniffled, swallowing hard. 

For the turmoil I was about to thrust her into, I sought her through the bond. She usually kept her mental walls so high I could barely feel her presence but in this moment, she was open to me. Completely bare, the memories of her encounter with Tamlin were a turbulent sea of emotion that shook me. Submerged in her terror, I reached for her mind in the midst of all the chaos. _Feyre. I need you to know this wasn’t planned._

She couldn’t possibly organize a response back to me. But she nodded with her eyes trained on Tamlin who still refused to let go of her. Even when three High Lords witnessed his violence, he clung to her. Tamlin and Thesan exchanged words but I barely heard them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her savaged arms. 

_This is your doing_ , I told myself. 

Tamlin’s voice roused me from my mind. “What is this?” he said too cautiously for my liking. He was weighing the odds. A cornered animal was known to do desperate things. 

I leveled my gaze on him, pinning him with their weight. “Thesan is my witness. Helion will validate my claim.” His eyes darted from mine to the others. I could hear the moment he deduced why we were here and I was too slow. I met Feyre’s eyes, speaking only to her. She fearlessly matched my stare with her own, not breathing. “Feyre is my mate and by the Codes of the Fae, you will release her now.” 

No one was breathing. I was still caught by Feyre’s eyes. The stillness in her features had arrested me. Completely blinded me to Tamlin’s response. Only when her face contorted in pain did I see Tamlin’s claws pierce her arms. Right before he ripped them out of her to charge towards me. 

I was frozen. I knew if I raised my hand I would kill him. Instead I looked to Feyre who had dropped to her knees, clutching her arms to her chest. Sobbing. 

_This is your doing._

It was Helion who blocked Tamlin’s attack. He raised his golden spear that Tamlin took hold of and they struggled, brute force against one another. “He did this!” Tamlin roared, fangs fully elongated. His claws so long they even nicked his own wrists. His eyes were fully red with only black slits when they met mine. Helion pushed Tamlin back, struggling against the his strength. “You corrupted her. I’ll kill you for it even if it kills me. You did this to her,” he spat. I could barely keep to my feet. Torn between the woman I had loved and hurt and the male that knew it. Tamlin continued to roar at me but I was deaf to him. Helion continued to wrestle with Tamlin until Helion knocked him down. Helion straddled Tamlin’s chest, using his spear to catch Tamlin by his throat, pulling hard enough to near choke the High Lord. 

Thesan approached Feyre cautiously, reaching a hand out to her but she flinched away. “Would you let me heal you, Feyre?” he asked her quietly. She was silent but nodded slowly. When she held out her arms, I could see the puncture marks receding already. Leaving the dried blood on her pale skin. Thesan watched this in shock, knowing and recognizing the source of her healing abilities. He slowly turned to see me watching them. His face was still as he said softly, “You should take her and go, Rhysand.” 

I finally approached. Thesan backed away, placing a booted foot on Tamlin’s clawed hand to prevent him from swiping out. He continued to seethe through his choked voice her name. Crouching before her, I held out my hand. The moment she took it, I pulled her tightly into my arms and winnowed us away. Out of the camp and across the continent to the northernmost coast of the Night Court. Where I could garuntee absolute safety and privacy from every terror that tried to reach us. 

I took that infinitesimally small time to breathe her in. Only when we appeared on the gray beach did I force myself to let her go. Her wet hair whipped around her. She held herself tightly and stared at the dark waves in front of us. Dark gray clouds blocked out the sun above us and I was grateful our misery was felt by the sky. She stayed silent except for the occasional sob. I stood quietly besides her, watching the waves crash on the beach. I didn’t dare reach for her through our bond. 

As she quietly cried, all I could think was _you did this_. 

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed her staring at me. I met her swollen eyes. “I have asked so much of you,” I began hoarsely. “I ask you to hear me one more time. After, you never have to speak to me ever again. You can do what you wish after today and I won’t hold you back. It won’t be a bargain. You’ll be free of me.” She continued to stare at me with those glassy eyes. Barely a flicker of recognition in her gaze. 

“I used to see the night sky when I slept. Even Under the Mountain, I would be visited by these dreams of a beautiful sky. I didn’t understand it but I loved it all the same. In that misery, I could find a piece of myself that remained free. Memories so peaceful came to me that I was only breathing through those moments. Only years later and I saw the same night sky but familiar constellations. Even more familiar faces and the fires of Calanmai and I knew that whatever person I saw through had somehow made their way to the Spring Court. That was the first time I had ever seen you.” 

She studied me. Her blank expression shifting to thoughtful. I knew she recalled that moment like I did. _I've been looking for you_. 

“I thought by seeing you, I could finally understand the bond and it would become less precious. That it wouldn’t hurt when I ultimately had to say goodbye to those memories. To my horror, you found your way into my nightmares as well. By seeing you, I introduced your innocent life to my worst fears. You were real and I could not handle seeing you in pain. And then you showed up in Amarantha’s court, declaring your love for Tamlin,” I saw her human face, firm in defiance under Amarantha’s gaze. “And all my nightmares came to fruition,” I sighed out, shuddering. 

“But you persisted. Every challenge and hurt you overcame. You became a part of my dreams. I saw you laughing with my inner circle. Strolling the streets of my city. Looking at me without the hatred and suspicion,” my voice choked. “And I couldn’t stand by. I decided to fight then and if Amarantha killed me for it, then so be it. If there was a chance I’d live to see that smile on your face, I was going to take it and cling to that dream." I released a shuddering breath, staring at the waves lapping at my feet. I closed my eyes, trying to will away what happened next. "That part of me died the day I watched Amarantha snap your neck and the light leave your eyes,” tears were streaming down our faces but we kept silent out of respect for the memory. 

“And I was so desperate to have you back I forced every High Lord to give their power to you. I bound their will to mine without guilt because I knew that we would all be damned without your light. That I couldn’t breathe without you. You came back and...and I had to let you leave with Tamlin. But not before the mating bond snapped into place." I had nearly fallen from the shock of it. "I...I felt so lucky that you were alive...given a second chance that I convinced myself to accept your betrothal to him,” I pressed my hand to my mouth. “I let go of our bargain if it made you happy. I thought...I could give you that. I could forget the bargain and make you happy. I could still see your nightmares, dreams and hear your thoughts when they were loud but most of it was good. I trusted you could heal."

My knuckles were white at my side. "Until foreign terror crushed me and you were fearing for your life. I couldn’t reach you for a day after that. Tamlin appeared so confident at the first war meeting, no guilt over what he had done to you. I was so desperate, I winnowed into your bedroom that night to make good on our bargain. Each day that has passed, I wanted to tell you all of these things. I should have-”

“Why didn’t you?” She startled me when she spoke. Her voice was deep and raw from her screams. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

I forced myself to look into her eyes. “I never cared before what anyone else thought of me until I was faced with the possibility of your scorn. I had never known a worse fear than losing you. I feared you would reject me. You’d look at me with that hatred every court taught you to have.”

Her eyes searched my face. “What do you want from me?” 

The question threw me off. I sought out her eyes but she returned to staring at the sea. I swallowed. “Anything you want to give me. If its you...anything.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. She drew in a tentative breath. “Whatever way you wish to live, I’ll support you.” 

“If I never wanted to see you again?”

I clenched my eyes shut. “I would walk away and not look back.” She barely even nodded. She didn’t speak and my fears were as cold as the air around us. I pushed the thought of losing her away until I was numb. Until my mind had filled with the roaring of the ocean and nothing more. 

“I wish you would have told me,” her voice was barely audible over the waves. My ears flicked in her direction. Every fiber of my being attuned to her presence. “I spent so long resenting myself...that you were my first and last thought each and every day. That even though I was told to feel ashamed for the bargain, I...I couldn’t. Even when the Wall crumbled, I only reached out to you,” she was crying steadily. She stumbled a half-step towards me, catching herself on my right forearm. Her tattooed hand clutching me with all her strength. She looked up to meet my eyes with terrifying honesty. “That I destroyed myself... for someone I didn’t love nearly half as much... as the love I have for you now.” 

I tentatively raised my hand to her chin, stroking my thumb over her cheek. She leaned her cheek into my palm, her eyes still locked with mine. “I’m sorry, Feyre.” 

Her eyes hardened, becoming fierce. “I’m not,” she whispered. I slowly brought her face to mine, watching her eyes, until I pressed my lips to hers. The tension broke and she wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me back just as fiercely. 


	47. Become

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one today! Everyone loves fluff, right? 
> 
> Tomorrow, I ~~promise~~ that the character POVs will change and those of you reading for Nessian and Elucien or even Elariel will be satisfied (or not lol). 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

My chest ached. Each one of my ribs complained when I breathed. I had been heaving breaths for so long that my body had finally worn out completely. I broke away from Rhysand’s kiss reluctantly but rested my forehead on his chest. I closed my eyes, focusing on breathing slowly. 

_ How long had I been struggling for?  _ I thought.  _ How long have I hated myself?  _ Months of wishing I could fit in with the Spring Court and wishing that when I spoke, I could make Tamlin proud. I resented the part of me that felt discontent at having the fairytale ending. Tamlin had begged me to be happy at the Spring Court; he wanted me to lead a worriless life. But it had been a life that he would demand control over. Alis who would prepare me and Bron and Hart who would guard or guide me during the day. I was an ornament to be watched over. 

The memory of Tamlin scolding Bron and Hart for taking me riding past sunset was fresh and my cheeks heated. I had been so used to being his pet that I had felt guilty when I demanded my freedom. Instead of relief for escaping that, I felt shame. I had stayed so long. I had dedicated my life to trying to please Tamlin when I didn’t even desire his company. It had taken me so long to realize what he was doing to me. Even when he was screaming at me for my relationship with Rhysand and my refusal to marry him, I tried to placate him. I tried my hardest to please him and ease his temper. 

I hated myself for letting his opinion of me matter. Even more so, I hated that I felt guilty for loving Rhysand. I didn’t want to be standing with Rhysand at that moment. I wanted to hide myself away. 

Rhysand’s hand rested on the top of my head. “I may not know what you are thinking but I can tell it isn’t good.” He smiled cautiously when I looked up at him. While I took him in, my cheeks reddened.  _ How could you love me?  _ His smile widened. “Easily,” he replied, hearing the thoughts I had accidentally released. 

“I don’t understand how you could want me,” I blurted. My shame had quickly eased into embarrassment that heated my skin down to where it disappeared beneath my dress. He quirked his brow, amusement fading somewhat. “I’ve been engaged to your least favorite person for months. I died for him. I don’t know why you-” 

“I spent fifty years serving in Amarantha’s bed chamber,” he said quietly. “My power was hers to command and there were many acts I committed out of self-preservation. She had no short list of savages she asked me to perform, Feyre.” His violet eyes flicked to mine before looking away. “I’ve been alive for over five hundred years. There are many things I am not proud of.” 

“How do you...deal with it?” 

“Trying to be better,” he shook his head. Despite wearing his armor, he was completely bare to me. I saw how his shoulders were heavy with burden. The shadows under his eyes made sense to me. I recognized the soul-weary person in front of me as the same reflection in my mirror.

I reached my hand out to him. He followed the appendage up to my eyes, curious. “What now?” I asked. He smiled and clasped his hand in mine. 

“There are many answers to that question, Feyre,” his feline smile renewed my flush. He tugged on my hand and we walked up the beach side. “It is up to you. You can remain here, in my Court, and rule over our people.”

I gasped. “I was illiterate a few weeks ago and you want me to rule-” 

“Our court would not leave you so heavily burdened,” he laughed. “There are many parts of the land you will be learning about if you so choose. You could also refuse it and could pick your favorite one of my residences to make your home.”

I frowned. “You didn’t mention returning to the war camps.” 

“You would want that?” he took me in. “You’d be there with me...as mates.” I stared back at him, unphased. “From this day on, your presence and absence will be noted. Outside of the Night Court, I can not guarantee your safety. Even inside it there are many who would desire the chance to hurt me.” 

“And anyone who wanted to hurt me would go after you,” I finished for him. 

He closed the distance between us, picking my chin up with a finger. I eagerly took the chance to breathe in the warm smell of citrus. “I’ve had many years to become acquainted with the target on my back. You’ll need to be trained and quickly. I don’t think I’ll sleep until you can protect yourself. It was hard enough watching you go into the Spring Court unprotected. Now as my mate, it would be unbearable.” 

“I don’t believe I complained once when Cassian was training me,” though my body had done it’s fair share of complaining when I returned from the grueling training. 

“Cassian was being nice then,” Rhysand grinned, enjoying my look of shock and horror. Though I knew it was going to leave me drained and aching, my body practically vibrated in excitement. I wanted to regain that power. I wanted to know the magic inside of me and I revelled in Rhysand’s desire for me to become my own potent force. “But Cassian won’t be your only teachers. You’ll need to spend time with each of my inner circle to be fully trained. Cassian has taught you how to fight in the open. Azriel will teach you how to be subtle. Morrigan, my cousin, will help you hone your magic as will I. When you meet Amren, she will be a good measure for if you are sufficient.” 

“Who is Amren?” 

“The question is really  _ what _ ,” he shrugged. “My second-in-command. She watches over our territory while I am away, over the most precious pieces of my court.” He was silent as he studied the land. “There are so many things I wish I could have the time to show you. This wasn’t how I wanted it to go...I wish I could have had that time with you,” he squeezed my hand. 

My breath caught. “What would you have changed?” 

His violet eyes arrested mine. “Everything. I wanted to show you everything. I would have brought you to dinner with my court. Let them fall in love with you over a meal. I wanted to spend time learning every inch of your mind. Reading with you and helping you to hone your magic. Even the things I’ve never done before, I would have wanted to try with you.” I could see the two of us, laughing while we tried to cook. Spending a night on a blanket, naming constellations in a grassy field. Taunting each other when we sparred. I felt starved for that life. I wanted that normalcy with him that existed beyond the battlefield. “More than anything, I wanted to spend a night and day flying with you over the Night Court. Until you loved the skies as much as I do.” 

I turned to question him but my eyes were caught on the dark wings that towered over his shoulders. Like Cassians, they overshadowed his entire figure. My mouth popped open in awe. I could feel his eyes watching me wearily. He kept still as I circled him, as I had wanted to do for months, to study the wings closely. They slipped out of folds in his armor I had never seen before with thick, corded muscle branching from either side of his spine. I pressed my hand to them without hesitation, forgetting they were attached to his body. 

He stiffened, drawing his shoulders back. I snatched back my hand. “I’m sorry I-” 

“Your hands are too cold to be touching something so sensitive,” he breathed out, losing some of his tension. Catching me eye over his shoulder, he smiled. “My father was High fae. My mother was Illyrian. My magic allows me to hide them. I never knew a good time to show you. I was holding out for a night that I could fly with you, I guess.” 

“Fly with me?” I questioned, still deciding if I wanted to touch them again to illicit the same reaction. I met his eyes, coming around to face him again and comprehension dawned on me. “No,” I shook my head. “You’ll drop me.” 

“Should I be offended? That sounded like an insult.” But he was smiling. 

I shook my head harder, backing away. “It’s so cold. I’ll freeze up there.” 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he nodded, sure of himself. “All these excuses…” he tapped on his chin for dramatics “They sound more like challenges,” he grinned and swooped me up, curling me into his arms. 

“Rhysand, no, it’s far too high up-”I startled, attempting to wiggle myself loose but he had a firm grip. He continued to laugh, his chest resonating with mine. His eyes were trained on the sky above. My stomach became weightless as he crouched and then launched us into the skies. 

Wind rushed by my face, blowing my hair in every direction. With a few strokes of his wings, we were soaring if the cold air freezing my body was a good gauge. Fear had me sucking in quickly. Knowing the futility of arguing that we land, I buried my face into his shoulder and strangled him with both arms wrapped around his neck. “I expected more screaming,” he laughed. 

“I wouldn’t give you satisfaction,” I grit out between clenched teeth, trying to settle my stomach as we dove and rose in quick succession. 

“I guess I should stop trying,” he sighed out. My heart stopped. The rhythm of his wing beats slowed. One...two...and they stopped altogether. 

We were free falling. His weight pulled him to the ground first, me still curled in his arms against his chest. I clutched at his neck tighter. My head buried in his shoulder gave me an unadulterated view of the ground. The trees were still dots. We were still so high up. That we hadn’t died yet gave me courage. 

When I closed my eyes, the wind blowing at my hair was soothing. There was no noise except for the wind. All my troubles had been left below. I opened my eyes to study the mountains surrounding us. Some so tall they disappeared into the gray sky above. The land was covered in a thick forest of pines, snow coating some regions. While I admired the world, I noticed Rhysand grinning at me. “You were born to be up here.” 


	48. Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I gotta invest a lot of time into developing the other POVs and their plots. You guys asked for it so don't @ me when they get thrown into the frying pan :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Morrigan:**

When Azriel had winnowed to fetch me to guard Nesta and Elain, Nesta had already been awake. She still sat in her nightgown with a cloak draped around her shoulders, listening to the argument Lucien and Tamlin were having. Elain sleeping peacefully besides her. Though they had separate cots, Nesta slept with Elain in hers last night. 

When I appeared, she just glared up at me. Tamlin’s voice echoed into the tent. “Feyre is my betrothed. Her sisters are coming with me back to the Spring Court.” The last exchange we heard was Azriel telling Lucien I would guard the women and they should speak to Rhysand. All the while, Nesta just stared at her feet on the grass floor of the tent. 

“How long have you been awake?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Since last night.” We kept our voices low, letting Elain somehow sleep through all the noise. 

“What keeps you up?” 

“What doesn’t,” she huffed, rising to her feet. She pulled her long braid over her shoulder, slipping her fingers easily in and out until she had braided it into a crown that circled her head. “Even when I don’t have self-important fools arguing outside my tent, it’s...very noisy here.” Usually, I was so bone-tired that thunder wouldn’t wake me up that the noise of the camp never bothered me. “So while Lucien is gone, you’re our…” she waved a hand at my armoured clothing. 

“I can guard you and Elain if that’s what you're asking,” I quirked my eyebrow. “I just look better doing it than Lucien would,” I nodded confidently, my blonde hair swishing behind my head. She looked unconvinced but she stayed quiet. “Your opinion of the High Lord is so great, I take it,” I sat on the other cot. She followed the movement keenly. 

Nesta glanced up at me with some suspicion before shaking her head. “He was enough for Feyre,” she replied. 

I wanted to attack that statement with everything I had. The pieces of their story were vague and unknown. Until recently, I hadn’t even known Feyre existed. Now her two even more mysterious sisters are sleeping in the same war camp and I haven’t learned anything new yet. “Did you leave behind anyone in the-” 

“No,” she replied curtly. We stared at each other for a moment. She had steel grey eyes. They were impenetrable. Even if she was smiling at me, I never would have believed for a second she was happy, not with eyes that were as cunning as hers. Her features were sharper than Elain’s as well. A pointed chin and high cheekbones made her appear angular and honed, like a sword. 

Elain woke up with a sigh. When she sat up, she peered over Nesta’s shoulders at me with wide eyes. “Where is Lucien?” she whispered to Nesta. 

“Warning Rhysand that Tamlin’s a feral dog,” Nesta replied easily. I raised my brows. 

“Is Feyre alright?” she asked, still quiet. Watching the sisters interact was bizarre. Nesta’s voice was abrupt and Elain’s was soft but neither took an issue with the other over their tones. 

“I don’t know,” Nesta replied, bothered. “Lucien will be back soon?” She said more as a statement than a question. 

“Don’t like my company?” I asked lightly. She continued to stare at me flatly. I gave in. “Lucien will be back soon.” 

“We should wait for him,” Elain nodded, crawling from the bed to shrug on her deel. She strode from the tent, Nesta following and me bringing up the rear. We sat in the dewy grass with the morning sun bearing down and promising a hotter day. 

The silence was filled with the sound of cicadas and the waking camp. The sky was a crisp blue and cloudless. Assuming Rhysand was gone for the remainder of the day, I could spend the day as I wished. I looked forward to the relaxation, especially since the day promised to make me sweat. “What do you two normally do during the day?” I asked, reclining on my forearms in the grass. I was staring at the sky. Neither replied and when I glanced over, they had both risen to their feet and brushed off their gowns. 

Azriel approached, walking up the hill to meet us. The shadowsinger never appeared quite right when the sun was out. His shadows looked like steam in the light that made him look like a mirage, that he was slowly evaporating. I rose to my feet as well, sighing at the lost moment of relaxation. “Rhysand is going to retrieve Feyre,” he said to no one in particular. 

“Retrieve?” Nesta squinted. 

“Where is she?” Elain asked right after. 

I thought he was surprised they spoke to him. He glanced between the pair with, what I would call, apprehension. Reclaiming his command, “Tamlin isn’t safe to be around.” Nesta scoffed. Elain let her arm rest on Nesta’s and leaned on her for support. “Rhysand is going to intervene,” Azriel gave me a pointed look.

“What does that mean?” Nesta narrowed her eyes. 

“Rhysand is going to take Feyre from Tamlin. She won’t be with Tamlin after,” I took pity on Azriel who tried to find the words. 

“And Feyre is going to listen to him?” she sounded doubtful. I wanted to question that as well but was stopped before I could. Elain’s gasp tore our focus from the conversation towards Cassian and Lucien walking up the hill. Lucien’s left side was a bloody mess. Cassian was grinning and I found myself worrying over the reason why. 


	49. Grasp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks off when Rhysand leaves the meeting with Cassian, Azriel and Lucien. I'm all about plot so I'm gonna spend time building into things (slow burn baby). 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

I watched Rhysand leave, debating ignoring his orders and following him on his war path. Azriel’s warning glare told me to stay put. The concern on Lucien’s face told me to ignore Azriel. I wasn’t given the chance, Azriel placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I was wearing the steel and leather plate but I could still feel his hand clamping down on me. “Let him handle this, Cass.” 

“I don’t trust Tamlin to fight fair.” Lucien remained silent besides us, watching the direction Rhysand had gone. He didn’t flinch at the insult. His blank look bothered me. I expected more frustration. Tamlin had betrayed him and Lucien had already accepted it. “You were his right hand for a couple of centuries. Aren’t you going to tell me to  _ go to hell  _ or some other-”

“He isn’t the same male he was...before Under the Mountain. Whoever that person is, I don’t know him,” Lucien’s face had a layer of blood on it that was slowly drying. Underneath, I could see the hardening of his resolve. “I think he was strong enough to survive what happened...but I think he broke when Feyre died.” 

My brows furrowed. “I don’t care about his tragic backstory. Rhysand watched Feyre die as well. Only one of them tried to imprison her.” I said ‘tried’ despite the possibility Rhysand would be too late. I refused to believe that he wouldn’t reach her before Tamlin. I was anxious to take to the skies and ignore the High Lords and their rules. “Azriel was right. I shouldn’t have gone with Rhysand…” I faced them. “I would have let Rhysand kill him.” 

Lucien gave me a weary look and a tentative smile. “Then maybe Azriel, the only clear-headed one of us, should go with Rhysand.” 

Azriel paused in the middle of his thoughts. I knew he hadn’t been listening entirely to us because his face was too solemn. His eyes would be far off as he puzzled through things. He had been zoning out since we were young but he never lost track of the conversation. In a way only Azriel could succeed in, he split himself between us and his mind. Looking up, he shook his head. “I disagree.” Lucien raised a brow, the look too sarcastic to come from his beaten and bruised face. Azriel met Lucien’s eyes. I could see nothing but ice in them. “If I went, I would have killed Tamlin myself.” 

Lucien and I watched Azriel walk away in silence. I clapped my hand on Lucien’s shoulder and smiled broadly. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” I grinned. “Let’s go see what a healer can do for that ugly,” I patted his cheek. The inner circle was highly misleading. His most powerful member wasn’t even on the battlefield but guarding Velaris. Mor had been playing the diplomat for a large part of the war, keeping her magic full and at it’s deadliest until we needed it most. It left most of the camp under the mistaken impression she had lost her lethal edge. Most fae focused on me with my two swords and loud attitude. They missed Azriel slipping past their defenses, sliding his knife between their ribs. 

The healer, an Illyrian named Yarl, took one glance at Lucien’s brow and scoffed. “Come back when your limb is torn off,” he grunted. Yarl handed Lucien a bottle of a sterilizing poultice from the foul smell of poorly fermented alcohol and sent us on our way. Lucien took it reluctantly and gave me a sour look. His eye would need work but he didn’t mention it. 

We started back for the tents, already aiming for the tent he shared with Nesta and Elain. “What’d you expect?” 

“Absolutely nothing,” he shrugged me off. He startled when he realized I still watched him. “What?” he demanded. 

“I haven’t heard the story of how you became the designated body guard to Nesta and Elain. In fact, I don’t think anyone has.” 

“What about it? Feyre told me to make sure they were safe.” 

“Did Feyre also tell you to infatuate yourself with Elain or was that a personal project?” 

Lucien gaped at me. “Asshole,” he muttered. “How did you even know Feyre? You weren’t Under the Mountain. I would have noticed you and with your attitude, you would’ve died first,” he rambled, glaring at me. His tantrum didn’t change the fact that his visible skin was flushed, darkening almost to match the blood stains. 

I grinned but relented. “I met her through the bargain.”

“You weren’t apart of it.” 

“Rhysand asked me to teach her self-defense.” 

He stilled. “The Wall came down. Feyre knew if we waited too long, the humans wouldn’t have a chance of living. She said she couldn’t worry about her sisters and the humans at the same time...so she demanded I protect them. Bring them up to the war camp,” he sighed, taking his tunic and rubbing blood off on it. “A task I’ve fucked up nicely.” 

“Oh I don’t know,” I began. “They trust you and that says something.” He squinted at me. I jerked my head in the direction of their tent where Nesta and Elain were waiting, watching us walk up the hill to them. Mor was standing besides Nesta with an unreadable look on her face, her eyes caught on Lucien. Lucien was too young to have been involved in Mor’s escape from the Autumn Court but I wouldn’t blame her for feeling cautious of him. Azriel was standing in front of the three women, giving me a look of pure relief. “Oh I can already tell today will be interesting,” I grinned, watching Nesta’s eyes turn hard. 

“Welcome to my life,” Lucien said quietly as we walked up the group.

“What happened?” Elain asked Lucien once we were a pace away. Lucien glanced discreetly at me but I was not bothering to hide the laugh that was bubbling up. Elain didn’t react regardless. In all fairness, Lucien looked horrendous enough that even Nesta studied the blood coating him with a small amount of concern visible. I took the moment to study the subtle nature of her expression. The slight lift in her brows gave her concern away, I decided. 

“Tamlin isn’t the same as he used to be. He lost his temper.” Nesta looked displeased at his description. Elain remained pale at the sight of him. I took advantage of Rhysand being gone and led the quiet group to his tent, breaking into his supply of dried fruits he kept from Velaris. It wasn’t a filling breakfast but I couldn’t motivate myself for more boiled oats or barley. 

Mor lounged on Rhysand’s cot, biting into dried mangoes with a smile. Despite the chair, Elain took a seat on the grass floor. When we were all seated, Nesta turned to Mor. “What makes you think Feyre is going to listen to Rhysand?” I looked immediately to Azriel, mouthing  _ Rhysand?  _ He shrugged his shoulders. The more I thought about it, it made sense Nesta neglected their titles. 

I thought Mor would ease into it like Azriel and I had but instead, without blinking, she said, “Rhysand and Feyre are mates. The Code of the Fae does not allow another to forcibly remove a mate from their mate.”

“What does that mean?” Elain asked, biting into an apple. 

I swallowed. Explaining what mates meant so bluntly felt cheap. They weren’t just a physical bond or the human notion of marriage; an accepted mating bond was a bridge between two souls. Mates had intertwined fates. Not many times life offered guarantees but the mating bond was the purest form of assurances. 

“It’s a link between two souls,” Azriel broke the silence, meeting Elain’s confused gaze with collected calm. “The Cauldron guarantees that mates will find each other because their lives are connected.” 

“I don’t see how that could exist,” Nesta replied, fingers tearing into a pomegranate. “Do we not choose our own fates?” she asked. 

“It can be rejected. Mates doesn’t guarantee love...or even friendship,” Mor replied. Rhysand’s father had seen Azriel and I as bastards who should be excluded from most court happenings. That worked well for us as we had no desire to be a part of that; however, Mor had witnessed the relationship between Rhysand’s parents more so. Doubtlessly, she had her own reservations about the validity of the claim of mates. 

“But you’re tied to that person,” Nesta replied. Mor nodded. “Feyre has a choice?” 

“Of course,” I answered, voice hoarse. She met my eyes and for the first time, I saw past the assessing and cold gaze she gave everyone. Her gray eyes were like storm clouds, filled with worry and tumult. Even the thin line of her pressed lips seemed tighter, more concerned. She sat tense in her chair. A very different Nesta appeared before me. One who had left her home with no guarantee of safety, worrying over her two sisters.


	50. Vex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not over how we were robbed of Nesta and Mor's friendship. Robbed!  
> I thought this would be a quick chapter but lol no. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Elain wanted to ask for something. She was nervously twirling her hair and I knew her too well to know she was about to ask something. She’d had that habit of fidgeting when she was about to ask what she deemed to be a favor. If the conversation never stopped, she might not even speak up. 

The fae in the tent were quietly chatting about what tasks need to be completed before their High Lord returned. Most of it concerned Cassian running drills of some sort and Azriel collecting information from his spies. Lucien had asked if we had belongings we’d like to keep should we need to leave but we barely had a spare dress so that was easily answered. That had been the extent of our involvement and my interest in the conversation. 

Though Elain and I coming to the war camps had been a journey into the terrifying, it had easily changed into the utterly boring. Everyday I ate all my meals with Lucien, Elain and sometimes Cassian. Lucien would bring us along to get water pails so Elain and I could bathe that he’d heat before leaving us in privacy in the tent. We could usually walk around the camp but Lucien would follow at a distance. We were not supposed to venture too far into the woods and since Elain was anxious about walking through the camps, we’d walk the perimeter. After the first day, our routine was excruciatingly slow. 

My favorite time of day was the baths, even though we bathed ourselves out of buckets. It was quiet and I could spend as long as I wanted without being bothered. Even at home, I’d found quiet places to hide away in. My library had been that place for me. I’d filled it with my favorite books and the one leather chair that I could fit in if I curled up. At the end of the month, I could count on new book selections appearing in the store near town. I’d buy a few I was interested in and still return home to reread the same novel, curled up by the fire with tea. 

I resisted thinking of what became of that place of quiet and comfort. 

Instead, I was only reminded how much I missed my books. If I hadn’t been moderately concussed that night, I would have probably insisted on taking my favorite novel I kept on my nightstand. Everyday that passed in boredom, it never failed to pain me how I could better have spent my time with a book. It got to the point where I would be willing to read the history of pottery and be utterly fascinated. 

My boredom had pushed me to the point where I interrupted the conversation to ask, “Elain, what is it?” Every eye in the room swung to me and then Elain. She was folding her hands together, watching her fingers interlace together. 

“I’d like to go visit the others,” she said. The room breathed out collectively. _She wants to see Graysen._ Her fingers spun her iron engagement ring. I wondered why out of everything lost the night we fled from our home, why Graysen and that damn ring wasn’t a part of it. In the beginning, I had tolerated Graysen because he doted on Elain. Elain could request he bring her the sun and he would run off to see it done. This behavior isn’t exactly uncommon in the various men Elain has attracted. It didn’t make Graysen unlikeable that he wanted to please Elain; I simply believed she should be with someone who would _succeed_ at bringing her the sun. 

Lucien, looking half-dead, nodded eagerly. “We can do that.” She relaxed and weaved her fingers into the grass. Lucien was still watching her when he said, “I need to check on Thales and Linus. Probably Alis, Bron and Hart as well.” 

“Didn’t the High Lord himself shun you from his camp?” Cassian quirked an eyebrow. He sat across from me and at this distance, I could clearly see how tense he was. He always had one hand resting on some blade and the other rarely occupied. He was ready for a fight even now, in this deceivingly safe space. I wasn’t fooled into believing I could catch him off his guard but if it seemed like it would be interesting, I might try it. 

“They aren’t with the Spring Court,” Lucien retorted, glaring back. “They are at the Summer Court with the other refugees.” 

Elain had another request. She was pressing her thumb to her bottom lip, worrying the flesh. “Do you think Thales and Linus would like to go into the woods to pick more fruit?” Mor, Azirel and Cassian were confused by the question but Lucien nodded without missing a beat. 

“Yes, they’d like that. The two are probably bored to tears in the camp,” Lucien laughed. If we were all asking for things, I briefly considered asking for a book but stayed myself. They would not have books in a war camp. 

“What were you about to say?” Cassian had turned the full weight of his attention on me. His hazel eyes were warm while they studied me. I wasn’t surprised he had caught my look. He didn’t miss anything. 

I watched him for a second longer before directing my question towards the room. “I doubt this camp has them but are there any books in it?” 

“Helion would,” Mor suggested. Catching my question, she supplied, “Helion is the High Lord of the Day Court. I bet his camp has a library.” 

“She shouldn’t go into Helion’s camp,” Cassian startled, possibly the most unsettled I’ve seen the male since I arrived. Lucien raised his brows, looking like he agreed with Cassian. Azriel seemed to dissapear a little more into the shadows. 

Cassian's appalled face at the thought of me meeting Helion was enough to prompt me to say, “I’d like to go.” I enjoyed watching him turn that bewildered gaze on me. _Maybe I will be able to catch him off his guard._ Now that my day promised to be filled with more than a bath, walking and poor meals, I was eager to begin. 

“It’s for a book and I’ll go with her,” Mor swatted away their concerns with a wave of her hand. I liked her a little bit more for that. Lucien looked ready to object but she raised a brow at him. “Did Azriel not say that Nesta and Elain are guests of the Night Court? I think I can protect her,” she snorted. I had never seen a female warrior and I was curious to see her prove that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This Helion male didn’t show himself when Mor and I entered the library. That was well enough because Cassian wasn’t around for me to take any pleasure in appalling him. Instead, it gave me a chance to focus on the books and I was girlishly excited for the chance. For the first time since arriving, I had seen a different part of the war camp other than the Night camp and it’s perimeter. The Day camp wasn’t exactly riveting but I eagerly seized the opportunity to be _elsewhere_. 

I had thought that when Mor mentioned he had a library, it would be a couple shelves. I was pleased to be wrong. It was a deceptively small yellow tent from the outside. On the inside shelves were jammed together so tightly only one person could fit if they entered sideways. Each shelf was at least eight rows of books that towered over my head with each aisle having a wooden ladder. 

Some old fae with curly white hair shorn close to their dark brown skin approached us as soon as we entered. “Ah. Morrigan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, showing unnervingly white teeth. He wore a large brown robe that hung from his frail frame. His fingernails were stained with black ink from writing so long. 

“Nesta will need to borrow some books, Shaeron,” Morrigan smiled back. 

The fae turned his glassy eyes to me. He squinted, focusing on me. His eyes were pale and murky. _He was blind._ “Yes, a lover of books is always appreciated,” he nodded. “Though I warn you: damaging the books means a lifetime of servitude in the High Lord’s libraries.” He broke into a smile he shared with Mor. I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking. I didn’t care though. A lifetime of servitude in a library would be paradise right now. “I’ll be in the scribes tent,” he bowed, leaving us. 

Once he left the tent, Mor turned to me. “I’ll leave you here.” I was so caught up by the library that I didn’t question the chance at being left alone. I didn’t waste my time. I walked the shelves until I had sorted through the order of it: by topic and then by alphabet. _As I expected._ Most of the topics were of war, strategy and philosophy which I noted in case I couldn’t find anything more to my taste. I expected no fiction would be present and so I immediately found the history and lore shelves. It would doubtlessly focus on the fae but that didn’t matter to me. When I was reading, no topic was rejected. I pulled several large tomes on the lore of Prythian and narrowed them down to two that I could barely carry. They were as long as my forearm and both heavy enough to pass for boulders. 

I sat at one of the small desks and flipped open the first one. I read for the entire afternoon. My mind was sucked into the stories and for a moment, none of this world existed. I was gone and the only thing that remained was the stories I read. Not a single fae disturbed me throughout the day. Some would curiously glance over at me but none approached. It helped that I glared them all down until they walked away. Even though the tent was hot, I found it soothing. My eyes lazily skimmed page after page without complaint. 

I continued to read through lunch. Only until my stomach growled did I bother to look up and see the sun was setting. Rising on delightfully stiff limbs, I picked up my books and left to find Mor.

I didn’t have to go far. She was sitting outside the tent, enjoying the last of the sun’s rays with another fae. I recognized this one as the High Lady from the Winter Court. The chirping of crickets filled the air. Mor's skin shone lightly with sweat from the heat of the day. 

“Oh, you live?” Mor raised a brow, an amused smile playing on her crimson lips. I was so satisfied that I dared a smile in response. “I guess we should be going then. I’m hungry,” she rose to her feet, helping Viviane to her feet as well. 

As we walked back to the camp, Mor glanced at me from time to time. It seemed my ability at reading Elain well had transferred to Mor. It was only a moment before she actually dared to ask her question. I took pity on her curiosity and said, “What are you going to ask?” 

“Why don’t you like Tamlin?” she spat out, eyes wide as they studied me. 

“And you like him?” I asked flatly. 

She laughed, loud and genuinely happy. “No, I think he’s an over-pompous cur that needs a good beating," she mused before stilling and glancing at me. With thoughtful eyes, she stated "I think you hated him even before this morning. I want to know why.” She had effectively removed any possible way I could avoid answering the question. I resented and respected her for it. 

I looked up at the pink and purple sky, thinking back to when we had first met Tamlin. “We lived in poverty for a long time. My useless father did nothing to help. Feyre took to hunting and that’s how we survived,” We had needed someone to save us. My father had done all he could to render himself completely useless to my sisters and I. Feyre had the strength to do that. She could walk into the woods and come back successful. She’s always had the natural ability and bravery. I had been just as bad as my father at that time. I wished I could have been different but I wasn't. “Feyre one day shot a fae wolf and Tamlin tore into our house to take revenge. He demanded Feyre to come with him as payment. We didn’t know about Amarantha or any of that yet but he glamored my father, sister and I to think Feyre was with a sick aunt,” I laughed bitterly. We barely looked where we were walking. Mor’s eyes were glued to me and I was blinded by memories. He'd taken her and we never thought to see her again. The sister I had watched walk into the woods on countless days was gone and I had no chance to say anything to her. What I would have said remains to be seen but I had felt robbed nonetheless. “The glamour didn’t work on me for some reason and I resented him ever since.” From the look in Mor’s eyes, this was the first she had ever heard this story. Her gaze held a solemn weight I had not seen in her eyes. 

“You hate him even though you know why he did what he did?” she asked thoughtfully. 

“No. I know why he took Feyre. I hate him because he tried to cover what he had done. Make him look heroic. But in reality, he was some fae that kidnapped my sister to use her,” I finished, staring at my books. I hated to think of what I would do if he had hurt her. I had no fae strength or magic but I had rage and that was enough for me.

Sounds of metal clanging drew my attention and I glanced up to find we made it back to the Night camp, easily identified by the copious amount of black. The metal came from a practice ring where several fae were practicing beating each other into the ground. I recognized Cassian by the red gems that adorned his armor. Also by the sheer size difference of the broad male in comparison to the other fae. Mor caught my gaze and looked to the ring. “The only one I know who enjoys getting new bruises,” she laughed. “Unfortunately, I think that has affected his brain too.” 

I barely heard her. My eyes were trained on the male who darted and dodged swings with vigor. Swipes of his dual swords came quick and brutally. With a single downstroke, he had dented an opponent's shield until it almost completely caved inward. Those who thought to sneak up on him were blocked by his wing, throwing them off their feet. He was a living flame that spread across the arena and consumed every opponent until they were none left. 

“We should get him for dinner,” Mor tugged my arm, practically dragging me in his direction. I resisted the idea of getting closer to someone who burned with such intensity. As we got closer, I made out the individual beads of sweat that dripped from his brow. A single lock of black hair had freed itself from his bun and hung like a pendulum at his forehead. I was entranced by it's motion. 

Cassian knew when we were near. He raised his head to the wind like he could scent us, like prey. _Maybe he could_ , I mused. He spun to face us with eyes that swallowed me whole. He met us halfway, walking with the casual confidence only a male who defeated every challenger possessed. I locked my features so nothing escaped though I felt that was futile against him. “So you finally emerge from Helion’s library,” he smirked. 

I tilted my head. _I would not let him catch me off-guard._ “Helion’s library was...large,” I supplied, enjoying how his lips twitched. I looked to Mor. “Would it be possible to return? I’d like to see more,” I purposefully left all my questions up for interpretation. Vexing this possessive male was going to become a hobby of mine. He bit his lip, looking off towards the Day camp. 

“I don’t see why not. We will have to speak with Rhysand about how best to protect you but we’ll go back,” she affirmed. Looking back to Cassian, “We were coming to collect you for dinner but before, you need to wash. You smell like a mudpit,” she waved to his dirty armor. I curbed my eyes that wanted to look and inspect further. I purposefully kept my stare far off, not trusting my traitorous eyes. 

He agreed eagerly, dismissing the soldiers with a few shouts. Thankfully, he walked behind Mor and I so I could keep my thoughts in order. That changed when we arrived outside the mess hall and he took a pale of water, splashing it over his head. Mor sidestepped him, cursing him for getting her pants wet, and walked into the mess hall to claim our plates. I itched to keep her from leaving. 

Cassian took a rag and wiped away the sweat and grime, leaving a track of his across his forehead. I was too slow in averting my eyes. I barely stopped the flush in my cheeks. “Do you need a bath too?” he asked, voice too low for my comfort. 

I pursed my lips and let his challenge clear my thoughts. I raised my eyes to meet his with steady determination. “If I had spent my day rolling around with fae maybe but-” 

“Fae?” he spat, dark eyebrows lifting. His eyes were comically wide. “I’m _not_ fae,” he exclaimed, tapping a finger to his breastplate. The armor _thumped_ in response. He turned his head and pointed to the rounded ear. “I’m an _Illyrian_. Did you happen to notice the wings?” he fanned them out until they casted shadows over me. They glowed red with the light of the setting sun illuminating him from behind. They were perfectly joined to his muscular shoulders, looking too natural for something that definitely wasn't. 

I knew he saw me study him and he was appreciative. I tore my eyes from them to meet his confident eyes. He crossed his arms over his breastplate, undoubtedly flexing beneath the leather and steel. His eyes were alight with glee and pride. _I will catch you unaware_ , I mentally promised.

I met his grin with a thoughtful look of my own. “Actually, no," I shook my head, frowning as if they never crossed my mind. "They’re quite small,” I squinted. Satisfaction was immeadiate. His smile dropped, eyes indignant. Mor returning with plates of food interrupted any rebuttal. My smirk was hidden by my back while we walked. I’d like to think I could still smell the smoke pouring from his ears.


	51. Tend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished plotting twelve chapters and it all goes downhill! Yay for constant strife!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

Elain’s steps were quickened when we walked towards the human encampment. It wasn’t difficult to deduce that Elain wanted to visit the humans to speak with Graysen. I only wished to know  _ why _ . I attempted to read her emotions but wasn’t successful due to my own nervousness. It had only been a night since Graysen had insulted her, making her cry half the night away. I couldn’t tell if she was excited or anxious to speak to him. She hadn’t bothered to redo her braid so it lent her an air of restlessness. Oddly enough, she wasn’t fidgeting. 

Azriel had come along since we were going to be entering the woods later on. Past the war camp, the forest posed a larger threat. Hybern’s forces had been just across the Andros when we arrived days prior. If they were being bold, it wasn’t the time to let our guards down. Azriel had quietly volunteered to accompany us into the woods after breakfast and I gratefully accepted. I didn’t want my pride to get Elain hurt and Azriel’s shadows were as good as putting up a barricade between Elain and the remainder of the world. 

Though when we approached the human camp, Azriel stopped us. “I need to handle something. You’ll not enter the woods until I return?” he looked between the both of us. Elain nodded with a quiet sincerity. 

“We will wait here for you,” I agreed before he vanished into his own shadow. 

“What do you think they feel like?” Elain asked. I turned amused eyes on her. “The shadows? They look like mist to me. Do you think they are solid enough to touch it?” she was still looking where Azriel had been. “Where do they come from?” 

“He is a shadowsinger. It’s something unique to Illyrians. You should ask him, I don’t think I could give accurate answers. The Illyrians aren’t a well-documented people,” I had studied extensively when I was growing in the Autumn Court. I was required to know all the peoples within each court, their abilities and how to combat them effectively. The Night Court’s records were sparse as outside courts recording on their populace wasn’t appreciated, by either the High Lord or the Illyrian War Lords. 

Instead, the books recommended using the Dawn Court peregryns as suitable comparisons for fighting technique but that was preposterous now having met one. The Illyrian’s were massive in comparison. Fae were tall and lithe with long limbs with spindly, delicate hands. Peregryns were practically fae with wings; they had hollow bones suited for flying. Their wings appeared bulky but it was due to the plumes of white and tan feathers. Illyirians were completely solid; they were just as tall as the fae but broader. Their culture built around war and violence from what I had observed. They physically out measured the fae and the peregryns. 

I had witnessed Cassian rapidly expand his wing to use like another limb. It could dent armor and knock a male to the ground. If the peregryns were to attempt the same they’d likely snap their wings. They preferred long ranged attacks and excelled in spears and longbows. If I ever expected to fight an Illyrian, I’d have to adapt quickly because all my history in sparring wouldn’t help me against them.

She shrugged before entering the human encampment. I hung back to give her privacy. Though it wasn’t much since I could hear her but at least the illusion of privacy was there. I refused to go where I couldn’t hear her. After seeing Tamlin change, I wasn’t going to trust Graysen not to either. I had never seen Elain so much as raise her voice; I naturally didn’t trust her to raise herself in her defense either. 

Especially not against someone she loved either. Though my fears were assuaged at their quiet voices, apologizing profusely to each other. 

I was planning to find Thales and Linus after Elain returned but they found me first. Linus was first. He hollered my name from across a group of humans, startling them all near death. He didn’t pause either. Their fear was of no consequence to the young fae. He was lunging over cots and pushing humans left and right.  _ At least he knew to pull his strength back _ , I winced as I watched a full grown human man stumble over. 

Thales was only slightly better. 

They both launched themselves against me with all their combined might. “Lucien we haven’t seen you! Where have you been? Does High Lord Tamlin hate you? We thought you were dead? Did you get hurt? You look like you got into a fight? Who hurt you? We’ll fight them! I’ve been practicing my punches! I can fight!” they rambled off and I could barely keep up. 

I raised my hands in surrender. “How can you guys be so awake and so loud this early in the day?” I laughed, thrusting my hand into Thales hair and tugging on it affectionately. “I’m fine as you can see. You should see the other guy,” I said good-heartedly. I wouldn’t be the first to poison their views. 

_ Maybe they don’t think of Tamlin as their High Lord _ , I considered. Alis was from the Summer Court originally. If anything, they would probably remain loyal to their court. Alis made the offering to Tamlin but Thales and Linus could still be Summer Court citizens at least. 

“Lucien,” Alis’s voice nearly knocked me off my feet. I hadn’t noticed her approach. I drew her into a tight hug which planted her shorter head in the center of my chest. I could hear her laughter but she returned my hug with matched enthusiasm. “I’m glad to see you too, friend,” she nodded.

“You’re crushing us,” Thales choked out, squeezed between Alis and I. 

I released her but kept one hand on her shoulder. The last I had seen Alis, she was watching me lead the Summer Court fae to the war camps. She had been resolved to face Hybern’s wrath from her home. Alis was a servant and a Urisk. She had no training in weapons or sparring practice. She was not born to fight or hurt another. When Hybern came, she would be defenseless and yet she had accepted it gracefully. I had left her thinking I’d never see her again. 

Having her stand before me with poise was painful reminder of the people who did not stand with me now. “I’ve missed you as well, Lord Lucien,” she smiled, reading my pain easily. “It seems you’ve had an interesting journey. You will have to tell it to me someday. I’m sure Bron and Hart would be eager to hear it as well.” 

I stiffened. “Bron and Hart? They are with you? Where? Are you in the Spring Court’s camp?” That didn’t add up. It didn’t explain how Thales and Linus came across me in the Summer camp. I was dreading the answer I had known at heart. 

“Thales. Linus. Go play until I call you back. Do  _ not  _ go far you two,” she pushed the two boys away. She lifted her chin. She made the same face she had the day I had left her at the manor, before Hybern attacked. “High Lord Tamlin dismissed me from his service. He dismissed Bron and Hart, along with the five fae soldiers you assigned to guard the Lady Feyre’s sisters,” she licked her lips, glancing away from me. 

My throat closed up. “I’m sorry Alis. That was not well done of him. He has not been the same fae I knew him once to be.”

She appeared to consider what I said before shaking herself. “No matter. We are fed and sheltered at the Summer Court. It is good to be with my High Lord after so many years. I think raising Thales and Linus under High Lord Tarquin’s rule will do them well.” 

“Why did he dismiss you?”

“Disobedience is grounds for dismissal, Lord Lucien,” she parroted, wrapping her arms around herself. I thought that was a distinctly Feyre-like gesture. “I haven’t seen you in the Summer Court. Where have you been? Unless you’re protecting the Lady Feyre’s sisters in a tent in the woods,” she mused, wry smile appearing. 

I swallowed. “No, Alis. I am staying as a guest in High Lord Rhysand’s camp.” Her eyes widened. Lips thinned. The rumors surrounding that single fae male were neverending. In the Spring Court, a new one was made up each day; one more horrible and blood-curdling than the last.  _ The High Lord took firstborns from those who didn’t fulfill their bargains. The High Lord obeys the Laws of First Night. The High Lord doesn’t allow the elderly to age past their usefulness. The High Lord can survive off of lamb’s blood.  _ The rumors went on and on. “I will not speak further but the High Lord is most...surprising,” I answered, not daring to go further. With how Cassian and Azriel assessed me when I realized Rhysand and Feyre were mates, I was sure they would not approve of me spreading that information. Not that I would betray Feyre’s safety but it was difficult when faced with her closest friends. Especially a friend that was dear to me as well. 

She softened a little. “I trust you, Lord Lucien.” Something caught my ear. A gasp. So soft I thought it wasn’t real. But Elain was barely real either. I spun in her direction, listening on the wind. 

_ “You stay with the fae, Elain. Your sister is fae. It is not acceptable,”  _ it was not Graysen’s voice that spoke. An older man instead like his father. My hands clenched and unclenched.  _ Perhaps my anger with Tamlin wasn’t as gone as I had thought. _ It was the only explanation for why my blood ran white hot. I must have heated noticeably because Alis took a step backwards. 

“Wait here,” I ordered, marching in Elain’s direction. She smelled like honeysuckle. Or a grass after the rain. It was hard  _ not  _ to notice her among the presence of so many unwashed bodies. 

_ “I cannot help my family and friends...I love them too,”  _ she choked. I envisioned the way her shoulders would shake. How she’d clasp her hands together and wring them until they were red. It was an effort to prevent the fire from slipping out and consuming things recklessly.  _ She doesn’t need your anger _ , I chastised myself.  _ Had I become like Tamlin too? Ready to strike down the people that hurt those I cared for?  _ I stopped outside the tent where they spoke and willed myself into ice. I took all the magic back and stuffed it back inside me. When my ears no longer roared with my rushing blood, I finally turned to enter the tent. 

I didn’t have to. Elain stood at it’s entrance, watching me with glassy eyes and red cheeks. She had her hands clasped against her chest and where there should have been an iron ring, there was none. 

However many times I had wished that ring away was nothing compared to the all-consuming desire that it would be there, just this once. The sorrow in her eyes was threatening to stop my heart. Her face was the picture of loss and grief. She squeezed her hands, rubbing at the spot where her ring had been. “I’d like to go now,” was all she said. 

I wordlessly led her away from the human camps. I tried to spot Alis but she was already gone, taking Thales and Linus with her. I’d speak with her later. At the moment, my heart had followed Elain’s into her despair. Her chin quivered but she didn’t weep. Not while we walked through the Summer camp back into the Night’s, past every practice ring and soldier, and up onto the hill where our tent was planted. She only heaved her first sob when she pushed into the tent, throwing herself onto the cot. 

I bit my lip from the doorway. “Would you like to be alone?” I asked her. 

“Yes, please,” her stuffy voice answered, buried into her blankets. Her small hands were fisted in them. I silently took up my watch outside, sitting in the grass. I watched the sun rise and fall in the sky. It was hot enough to bake a man alive but I couldn’t find it in me to care. Not about the blood and grime that still coated my skin and clothing. Or the sweat mixing in that made my clothes stick to me. The humidity made the air thick and breathing was hard enough with the weight pressing down on my heart. 

Azriel appeared out of the shadows later on, looking pleased to find me not disobeying his requests. He was about to speak when another quiet sob echoed in our ears. He followed the sound into the tent. His cheeks tightened but that was all the reaction I saw from the shadowsinger. Even his shadows flicked once but continued to dissipate in the heat. Without a single question, he sat down besides me and took up watching the day pass by as well. Even though he didn’t speak, I felt comforted by his quiet company. 

Unbidden, thoughts of my mother comforting me came. When I was still growing I had came into my powers violently. My magic wreaked havoc on my body. High Priestesses said it was because I’d be the most powerful magically. That was kept secret but I don’t believe it’d have come true anyway. My mother sent away the servants, High Priestesses, and healers after they had done all they could. She brought me all that I needed herself and sat by my bedside while I struggled with fever. I was slightly delirious but I could still remember her bringing me pumpkin and apple tarts, a pastry I would steal from the kitchens without remorse. At the end of the day, I could count on her bringing me my favorite dessert. She’d kiss my forehead and read besides me till I fell asleep. Even though I had been nearly an adult male, I welcomed her comfort when I was weak. 

In a moment of impatience, I rose to my feet. Azriel stared at me curiously. “You’ll watch her?” I asked. His eyes hardened and he nodded firmly. “Thank you, Azriel,” I smiled tightly before winnowing away. 

I reappeared at the perimeter of the war camp and walked straight into the forest. My eyes were trained on the grounds. I took no heed where my feet led me. I fell back into those habits I formed in the Autumn Court where I could walk the woods without ever getting lost. I loved the woods too deeply to ever fear it’s unknowns. I let my one good eye search without direction. I would know when I saw it, I trusted. 

It came in the form of a small shrub. Leaves wide like my hands but flowers like sunsets. Each petal was circular and bled from yellow into orange into pink. At the center were golden flecks. I had no shovel so I inserted my sword into the soft grown and slowly pried the plant from it’s nesting place. I would remove my sword and then insert it elsewhere to leverage the plant. In the heat of the day, I was sweating profusely. I dripped onto the leaves. “You better not die,” I muttered, sheathing my muddy sword. I dug my fingers into the ground and freed the small plant from the ground. 

It took several winnows to return to the war camps. When I did appear before Azriel, he lazily looked from me to the plant. He raised his eyebrows. “She likes plants,” I explained. Azriel nodded like that was a sufficient answer. My hands were covered in dirt. My sleeves and pants legs had also been caked fairly well too. If I had a mirror, I’d expect my appearance to look rather gruesome; with one good eye, a solid coat of blood and dirt and sweating until my clothes were soaked clean through. 

It would have to do. 

“Elain,” I called tentatively before entering. She barely stirred from where she curled underneath the blankets. I realized she wasn’t going to turn around for much which included me standing like a fool, clutching a shrub. I placed the plant on the grass floor and took out my sword again.  _ Now this thing really better not die _ , I grunted as I dug the sword into the densely packed earth. What would be worse than Elain turning around to find a dead plant in the center of her tent? 

Azriel joined me in using his sword to remove enough sod to plant the shrub. We worked in tandem in the quiet tent. The only sound was our swords cutting through the ground. The dirt fell apart the moment we tried to move it. We spent time scooping it out before Azriel took the bush by it’s base and dropped it unceremoniously into the poorly-constructed hole. 

I couldn’t speak for Azriel but I hadn’t noticed Elain watching us. She sat up in the cot, hair tussled with the blanket wrapped around her. Her blue deel was wet from her tears. Her red eyes followed the trail of mud that littered the tent floor to the shrub. It sat in the center of the tent with more than a few broken stems and lamed leaves. A few flowers were missing petals. She looked between us, mouth parted. Azriel and I glanced at each other; I would have bet my life Azriel was mentally blaming me for digging up the shrub in the first place. 

I was a breath away from caving in and apologizing. 

But she tipped her head back and laughed. She laughed louder than I had ever heard her speak and didn’t hold back. For a few solid moments, she was pointing at the bush and howling. We kept frozen. I watched her with a mixture of nervousness and awe. Even if she was laughing purely at my expense, I could only be happy for her. Finally, I laughed with her. Azriel smiled as well, eyes darting to Elain.

She looked carefree at the moment. No timidness carried into her full-bellied laugh. Even her puffy eyes and cheeks gave her an air of careless freedom that I appreciated immensely. It would take her ages to move past Graysen but I’d dig up the entire forest if it meant her laughing like this again. 

When she had finished wheezing and her face was flushed, she wiped at her eyes. “You strangled that poor bush and turned my tent into a mudpit,” she snorted, clasping her hands over her mouth. Her honey eyes were alight with untamed glee. “Thank you both,” she bit her lips, coming to kneel in the dirt in front of us. She surveyed the mess we had made with a clinical gaze. With slow and steady hands, she unpacked the dirt around the bush. Her half-lidded gaze wholy focused on the task before her. She bit her lower lip in quiet contemplation. Her deft fingers pushed the dirt around to resituate the plant until she was sure it had the best chance at survival. Azriel and I sat wordlessly, leaning on opposite cots. I stayed like that in quiet appreciation for the remainder of the afternoon. 


	52. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

The moment I had Feyre in my arms was the moment I realized I couldn’t return to the war camps right away as I had originally planned. The sensation of her was the undoing of all rational thought: her death grip around my neck, warm breath on my skin and tense muscles under my arms. Her hair whipped around and tickled my face. The combination of her lilac smell and the crisp, cold wind was intoxicating; I was gladly drunk on her. 

When she first laughed, half in disbelief she hadn’t died and half in awe at our surroundings, I startled at the sound. Her face had been next to my ear but I wanted to crane my head to see her smile. I thought she’d look beautiful when she laughed. I settled for enjoying the bursts of laughter that brought a grin to my own face. Her happiness was pure relief to me. No worries or pains could haunt me because I was so engrossed in everything about her. She was instant escapism for me. 

I understood why all the great love tales ended in almost certain tragedy. To experience a love like this and live so fully could only be met with equally agonizing challenges, otherwise life would be playing favorites. Looking at her hair whipping in the wind as we fell to the earth, I decided we would overcome them all. Every obstacle was feasible if it meant experiencing another day like this. I would endure it all for her, for _ this.  _

I’d start that tomorrow. For today, I would steal this moment. I demanded to have today with her and Hybern, the Cauldron and certain end of the world could all be damned. I informed my court that we would return before dawn and let my mind fall back in Feyre’s warm company. 

After the initial plummet, she no longer hid her face in my shoulder. I flew with an unobstructed view of her endless awe. Her lips fell open to a small ‘o’ and her eyes followed all things from the near ground to the distant horizon. The mountains that sheltered Velaris were just visible but I felt a special thrill when she peered their way. 

She laid her head on my shoulder, arms looser around my neck and rested. If she was cold, she didn’t mention it. Her cheeks were raw and some tears had escaped from the unending wind that berated us. Illyrians rarely noticed those things but to her she might be more susceptible. “Are you alright?” I asked, enjoying any excuse to press my lips to her ear. She shivered and nodded. I felt her hand stretch behind me and rest, open palm on my spine. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“How beautiful everything is from above,” she sighed. 

“We’ll have more time for this, I promise,” I whispered, kissing the shell of her ear. It was a liberty I took that I promised not to abuse. Though the allure of her closeness was sheer torture. Once she was in my arms, I found it impossible not to desire for more. 

For a period of time, after Amarantha’s end, I relished having my body to myself. The hugs I received from my inner circle when I returned were shocking and I had to resist the urge to cringe. It wasn’t them or the hugs but the contact that set my skin on fire. The memories it dragged from within me of nights spent obeying the urges of someone I hated. The acts and roles I had to partake in to satisfy a tyrant. 

The only thoughts that kept me from believing the taunts of the other High Lords was that she never had my obedience. Amarantha could abuse my body, powers and pride but never my loyalty. My small rebellion grew when Feyre arrived. My self-loathing had grown to the point where even if she discovered my betrayal, I cared little for my ending. My fears at being discovered were reserved for my people, my inner circle, and for Feyre. So it was easy in a way to plot against Amarantha as I had nothing left of myself that I desired to save. 

When I first began meeting with Feyre, I was comfortable with our distance. I felt touching her was wrong since I couldn’t find joy in it. Since every time I did so, nausea still roiled in my gut. As time had passed, I moved past these feelings. Everyday Amarantha was gone was another I could find joy in the presence of others, in their comfort. Cassian clapping a hand on my back or Mor pecking a kiss on my cheek were assurances of that. The more that I reminded myself, the more I wanted their closeness. I found that all my initial disgust had been a disguise; a mask for the fact that I had been starved of safe comfort and affection for half a millenia. 

I eagerly leaned into Feyre’s readily-given affection. Her arms around my neck were soothing. I felt assured by her body curled against mine. Even her touching my wings so unexpectedly, a painfully curious gesture on her part, was appreciated. A tenderness in each of her caresses that reminded me I was not alone; she was besides me now and she wanted to stay there. 

But even then, it hadn’t even been a full day since she had been engaged to Tamlin. She still wore his ring and his dress. I couldn’t mistake her affection for her readiness for more. So I promised myself that when I kissed the shell of her ear, I’d let her take the rest from me. Every piece of me she wanted she could take and I’d share that and nothing more with her. Not until she was ready and healed. 

For now, I’d enjoy her presence and count myself lucky. Though I couldn’t pretend I didn’t enjoy how she tightened when I whispered to her, “Hold on.” And we were sucked into the space between all spaces, roaring dark winds taking us from the skies above the Illyrian Mountains. We reappeared, soaring above the thousands of steps that led to the House of Wind. 

Her one hand had found it’s way to the base of my skull, fingers just touching my hair. She looked around her at the stairs, arching her brow. “Where are we?” Her voice was relaxed. 

“My home,” I couldn’t hide my broad smile. “This is the House of Wind,” I introduced her to the red stone palace when we landed at the top of the staircase. I almost forgot to put her down. I carefully let her slip from my arms and she wobbled a bit, on uneasy feet.

“My feet fell asleep,” she admitted sheepishly, smiling back at me. I wouldn’t tire of her smiling. 

“I don’t mind carrying you,” I offered quietly.

“Then I’d never walk.” 

“I don’t see a problem,” our eyes were interlocked. We had only made it to the entrance of my home and I was already finding it difficult to breathe. Her presence here was unreal and I was blinking hard to remind myself that this was no dream. She was here with me. I held out my hand to her, needing her touch to confirm it. “Would you like a tour?” 

“Of your home?” she asked, already entwining her fingers with mine. 

“This house is where I sleep but let me show you my home,” I corrected softly, pulling her past the doors and through the great halls. Stars hidden in the towering ceiling above lit our way through the House of Wind. I wasted no time showing her bedrooms, kitchens or living spaces. I only had one place in mind for her. When we got to the doors, I turned to her. She stopped too late and stood nearly chest to chest with me. I relished the proximity. Her blue eyes widened but she made no move to step away. “What I am about to show you will be a secret for the rest of your life. If others were to know about this then many people would suffer. Are you alright with keeping this secret?” I asked, searching her eyes. 

“I promise,” she nodded, squeezing my hand.

I raised our joined hands, squeezing hers in return. “Welcome to my home, Feyre. To Velaris, the City of Starlight,” I grinned. I swept open the doors to the open balcony. Carved between the mountains was a city of every color. Warm, yellow lights decorated every porch, window and cobbled street. The Sidra flowing through the city glowed blue. It was all overshadowed by the night sky with purple and blue galaxies shining above. The moon was just half-full and large above our heads. 

I was proud of my inner circle for their kindness, strengths and selflessness. I felt pride when I looked over my people, living beautiful lives safe within Velaris. When I watched Feyre walk forward, enraptured by the city and it’s sanctity, I was proud to be her mate. In her silent communion with Velaris, I witnessed her devote herself to its preservation. 

“I knew it,” she whispered. 

“Knew what?” I stood besides her, torn between watching her and my city. Our city. 

“There were so many times when I was told to beware your cunning heart. To be warned that you only wanted my body, my mind or whatever I could give you,” her eyes sought out mine. When I didn’t look, she brought her fingers to my chin and turned me to her. “But I knew it. I knew that wasn’t true. I know you to be selfless and good, that you wish to see this world better,” she murmured those words with hard conviction. Her thumb caressed my cheek bone. Her other hand pressed down on my armor and I wished I was only in my tunic, so I could feel the warmth of her hand on my heart. “The Night Court is your mask. It is the cold guise you don for the rest of the word. But this,” she gestured to Velaris. “This is your heart.” 

I wrapped my arms around her, bending my head to rest at the junction of her shoulder and neck. Her fingers weaved themselves into my hair and her other hand remained trapped between us. I drowned myself in her and let all my fears wash over me. If I could be with her in this moment, against all odds, I would overcome all terrors facing us. “I want to show you Velaris,” I muttered against her skin, enjoying how it rose in gooseflesh. 

“Rhysand,” she admonished. “The war-”

“For tonight. I want you to see your home just for a night.” She looked into my eyes and nodded. “Tomorrow, we will go but for now, I’d like this.” 

She bit her lip. “Alright, but I’d like to get changed first,” she motioned to her blood-stained gown. She was about to speak but I was already winnowing us into a bedroom that hadn’t seen use in ages. I pointed to the armoire. “Pick whatever you’d like,” I told her before crossing the hall to my own bedroom. I threw off my armor and tore through my room in a flurry, attempting to wipe all traces of war from my person. 


	53. Join

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: there will be no update 10.09.2020 EST. I apologize for the short notice but I have a responsibility to take care of. Daily updates will resume 10.10.2020. Thank you for your understanding :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:  
**

Once the door clicked shut, I went to work. I tugged and ripped at the dress’s bindings until I heard a tear. I shed the ruined gown without remorse. My underclothes went next. I went into the bathing area, stark naked, and used the small basin of water to rub away all the dried blood on my arms. Only faint bruises showed as proof that Tamlin had skewered me earlier. I refused to dwell on him. Without any ceremony, I slipped off the golden ring and slapped it on the bathroom counter. I didn’t care enough to place that ring somewhere safe. The fate of it was not my concern anymore.

I opened the closet to find gorgeous clothes of every style shimmering back at me. Each was fancier and more opulent than the last. They were fit for a real Lady of the Night Court and I hadn’t become that yet. I was the High Lord’s mate and I felt awkward slipping into these clothes, like I was borrowing them from another Lady. 

I picked the most casual piece I could find that glowed the least. It was peach colored and long sleeved but the shoulders and sleeves were nearly see-through. I belatedly realized it was in two pieces when I took it out of the closet and half of it dropped to the ground. I squeaked, thinking I’d already ruined it when I picked up a long skirt, trimmed in a blue silk. A wrap was included with the same trim but silver beads embroidered all along the edge. As I slipped into the skirt and shirt, wrapping the cloth over my shoulder, I studied the sari in the mirror. It had been dyed to look like a gradient of deep blue that slowly transitioned into a light pink at my shoulder. It reminded me of the sky right before dawn. 

I brushed through my hair and walked into the hall, content that I looked presentable enough for the people. For my people. Rhysand leaned outside my door, clad in his signature black kurta. The shoulders had intricate silver swirls that descended along his torso and arms. He swallowed. “I would say you look like you were born here but I think you’d call me a liar,” he smiled.

“You’d be wrong,” I laughed. “I would have called you a sycophant  _ and  _ a liar,” I corrected. 

“It’s not flattery if its the truth, Feyre darling,” he retorted, offering me his hand. I slipped mine into his. His eyes followed the motion, no doubt noticing the very absent piece of jewelry. He paused. “I’m not sorry that you are here with me. But I am sorry for how it happened...how it hurt you.” His other hand crossed over to caress my wrists where under the sheer fabric, lied the fading bruises. 

“He is the one that should be sorry. I don’t want you to apologize for how he acted,” I replied, staring at my arms.  _ Had it only been that morning? Had Ianthe been assessing me earlier today? Scrubbing my body and judging it for all it was worth? And Tamlin calling me a whore?  _

Rhysand pulled on my hand and we interlinked our arms, walking down the hall together. “I won’t cage you or try to control you. But if he lays a hand on you, I will tear him apart until he is nothing,” Rhysand’s voice was hard, struggling for the right words. My free hand pressed on his forearm in comfort. “Please do not think less of me.” 

“I won’t think so if you allow me the same,” I smiled encouragingly. 

“You’ll have to find your fangs first,” he laughed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had to fly to the city streets as the House of Wind was warded against winnowing. I didn’t mind being close again and relished the chance to breathe in his salty citrus. My toes clenched when we touched the ground when his hand brushed my bare spine. My side panged once but it was mostly healed. 

“There is so much to see,” he breathed, pulling me into the city streets. Our minds brushed against each other. Our arms were not the only pieces of ourselves touching as we strolled in the streets. Surprisingly, they were crowded. As we walked, they nodded to Rhysand and I before continuing on. I was too dumbstruck to react until he laughed, “Feyre, they’re fae too.” 

“It’s...more than what I am used to,” I breathed. “You...nod back at them.” 

His eyes grew far off. “They are my people. Without them, I am nothing,” he whispered. “When Amarantha stole our powers, I used the last of mine to tell my court. I needed them to protect this place. I didn’t know if I would be able to and I was proved right when the first thing she did was ransack each and every court. She couldn’t have possibly touched this place because my people have kept themselves secret for as long as Velaris has stood. But I needed them to watch as the rest of the world suffered under her tyranny. I needed my inner circle to remain in hiding, where Amarantha couldn’t hurt them.” His shoulders sagged with guilt. 

“How come Amarantha didn’t know?” I asked, pausing at her name.  _ She was dead.  _

“Because like most fae, everyone believes the seat of my power to rest in the Court of Nightmares. Amarantha modeled her own court after it. But our people know the price of their freedom,” he finished. The price had come high. No court was unscathed and Rhysand had managed to keep the people he loved safe, hidden. By offering himself up as a sacrifice to Amarantha, distracting her from the real treasure. I pressed into his arm. A small gesture of comfort for a wound that wouldn’t close so easily. He smiled for me. We strolled in the city streets in companionable silence. “The Court you’ve seen...that is the Court of Dreams. I don’t ever expect you to deal with the Court of Nightmares.” 

I tugged his arm until he stopped, facing me. We stood on a bridge, over a gorgeous river he had told me was the Sidra. “I told you that you’d have to let me protect you just as fiercely. You can’t go back on your word,” I refuted, raising my eyebrows in silent challenge.

“I did tell you that,” he laughed until he practically radiated. 

“Its too late now, I’m knee deep in your world now,” I motioned to the city, my eyes caught on it’s glow. 

“It’s not,” he said. I looked at him curiously. “It’s not too late. I want to give you an honest choice. You can stay here in Velaris. You can rule from here, train with Amren and watch over our people,” his thumbs caressed my knuckles.

“Why are you asking me this again? I already-” 

“Because it will get worse, Feyre,” he answered, jaw taut. The intensity in his violet eyes caught me in their net. “I wish your training will be the most painful part but I’d be lying. I want you to know that I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to stay behind. I’d be happy I could keep you safe…” he took a shuddering breath, not caring we stood in the center of his city. These people were his heart. He did not hide from them. “But I will be privileged to have you by my side, should you choose.”

He was right. When I agreed to face the war with him, I hadn’t yet seen Velaris. This place was magic in its purest form: it was painful to witness so closely how beautiful it was. One of Rhysand’s ancestors had kept this piece of the world good and pure. I could live a million years and never have spent enough time within the walls of this city. I looked back to Rhysand. “I want to stay in this city,” I breathed. His relief was palpable. “Only when you’re with me. Until then, I am going to help you protect it. You promised me I could protect you just as you would me and you’re going to let me do that. We’ve sacrificed so much of ourselves before...it’s time we share that,” I brushed a kiss to his cheek. 

His eyes were sad but understanding. “I am honored,” he nodded, kissing my forehead. We walked through the entire city until my legs protested further use. He laughed good-naturedly, scooped me into his arms and flew me back to the House of Wind. Though we spoke softly the entire time and I found it difficult to part. He sensed this in me or felt the resistance to leave me himself. Either way, he led me to a lantern lit terrace that overlooked Velaris. Leading me to a chaise, he pulled me down onto the cool cushions. I laid my head on his chest and we quietly whispered, watching the city live through the long night. 

And when the sun rose in the east, we rose with it and winnowed back to the war front. 


	54. Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

My hands twitched while I followed Nesta and Mor back to the tent. Nesta’s grin, thrown over her shoulder, threw fuel to my fire.  _ She believes she has won.  _ I settled in for what would surely be the contest of my lifetime. My eyes followed Nesta like she had a knife hidden up her sleeve. In a way, she did. Her tongue was just as sharp and deadly. I was itching for a fight and she was my chosen opponent. 

I had fought plenty of enemies on the battlefield and defeated each and every one of them. I was still standing after all. Many learned the fighting stances and styles through books and applied it on the field. Rhysand, being half-High Fae, first learned strategy through many masters before applying it in a sparring ring. Though his Illyrian mother made sure he spent just as much time re-learning it all in the Illyrian camps. 

I didn’t need that. I’d grown up fighting and it’d become second nature to assess those around me. I didn’t need the name for the offensive tactic to know how to defeat them. They were dead and that’s all I knew. 

I knew Nesta’s battle strategy the moment she had opened her mouth. All her attacks I would see coming and it was the one that I finally dodged would she pull out her second knife. I’d only realize my mistake when the knife was already too far in. She and Mor had more in common then they realized. Mor used her sword as the obvious attack and her dirk as the surprise for those who evaded her. 

Fighting styles like that were effective. I’d have to be resourceful if I expected to outmaneuver her. The thrill of the challenge was the reason I itched now. Everything about her begged to be underestimated on a battlefield. She was human, perhaps a third of my size, and had never been trained a single day in her life for battle. Yet, like Amren, looks were deceiving. 

We approached the tent and when Mor pulled back the curtain, they stopped in the doorway. I cautiously approached, peering between their shoulders. Sitting on the floor, directly in front of the entrance, was Azriel, Lucien and Elain. All of them were more or less disheveled and covered up to their elbows in dirt. Lucien a tad more so. But that isn’t what had me lifting my eyebrows. It was the small shrub in the center of the tent that they all sat around like they’d been chanting to it a moment before we interrupted. 

“Whose bush?” I asked, noting all the broken stems and damaged leaves. 

“Mine,” Elain replied. The first time she had replied to me without pause or flushing. She was dripping what definitely was Azriel’s water canteen over the plant with intense concentration. 

“Elain, I know you miss your garden but did you have to pick the  _ center  _ of our tent for it to go?” Nesta carefully picked up her dress to step around the three bodies on the ground. She perched herself on her cot, poking at her boiled oats. Mor and I took that as an invitation and followed suit. The bed creaked with all three of our weights so Mor moved to Elain’s. That left Nesta and I on opposite ends but because my wings couldn’t rest properly, one tilted over her head. 

“That’d be my fault,” Lucien sheepishly admitted. His copper hair was dull and stuck out in all directions. The two smaller braids that usually collected the pieces by his temples had almost completely come undone. His scar’s pale skin was contrasting sharply with the brown skin around it, darkend further by the coat of dirt. 

Lucien’s embarrassment was of no consequence to me. It was Azriels that had me surprised. He played it off well, casually leaning on the end of Elain’s cot, but I’d known him for centuries. I knew when he avoided my eyes. And that fucker was staring at everything  _ else  _ but me. 

I glanced to Nesta to see if she had any inkling towards what I saw. But her eyes were far more sad than I ever cared to see from her. Her mouth was firm. So consumed by her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed me staring. I followed her gaze to Elain, kneeling on the grass and mud floor. I searched out Elain’s soft form with a franticness especially reserved for realizing something too late. 

Elain’s Winter Court deel was stained with dirt. Her hair was unbraided and knotted. Her cheeks were puffy. Her freckles stood out a little more. Though she came off as intent, I could see her eyes were downcast. It was when she withdrew her hand from the dirt pile that I saw the source of Nesta’s worry, Elain’s sadness and that shrub. The story unraveled and I needed no other explanation. I had the strange urge to kiss Elain’s temple and go bury her betrothed somewhere unknown. 

“I see you found the library,” Elain said in a voice that knew we all were staring at her. 

“I did,” Nesta replied quietly. 

“Stop fussing,” Elain sighed, staring at her hands in her lap. They were dark brown and dirtying any clean part of her dress. “We have one sister we should be fussing over. I haven’t seen Feyre yet.” 

“Rhysand will come back with Feyre at dawn,” Azriel softly supplied. Lucien shot Azriel an accusing look. “They are in the Night Court. Afterall, the stars look nicer there.” The phrase was not lost on Mor or I. 

He’d finally shown her Velaris, our city of Starlight. I smiled, blessing whatever stars had been protecting her. I could finally let go of my fears for Feyre. She’d snuck into my circle of friends unexpectedly. Now that she was there, I wished we had more time to get to know each other.  _ Rhysand’s mate _ , I breathed. She was practically my little sister. I’d have to tease her like one then.  _ That  _ made me grin. 

“I don’t mean to pry but would you...would you want a bath?” Mor asked, glancing nervously between Elain and Nesta. My mouth dropped open at Mor. 

Elain’s popped open audibly. “Do you...are you saying I smell?” she asked, mortified. She whipped to look at Lucien and Azriel, searching our their eyes. “Have I smelled all day and you two said  _ nothing _ ?” she was close to wheezing. Elain could feign outrage all she wanted. Her face was beet red. 

I took pity on the floundering males who could only watch her grow more panicked with the increasing silence. I wished there was a court painter who could have captured their combined horror at the human female’s sensibilities. “Trust me Elain the only thing anyone here can smell is Lucien’s old shirt,” I nodded honestly. She nodded curtly, biting her lip and wringing her wrists. 

“Oh don’t be so modest. You’ve smelled like stale sweat for eight days,” Mor quipped, glancing at my uncleaned armor. I hadn’t had the time to sit down and pick out all the collected grime so there was the chance I’d find some rotting bits in there. I shrugged. “Come on then. I think it’s time for a bath.”

“You have a bath?” Nesta said with too much reverence for a tub. 

“Perks of the position,” Mor met Nesta’s eyes and smiled wickedly. “Who is first?” she asked, clapping her hands and looking between the sisters. Elain went first at the insistence that she was offending everyone present with her smell. I could have told her that even her sweat smelled vaguely like honeysuckle but she might have taken that as an advance. Nesta wouldn’t have to kill me. I’d do it myself if Elain was even further embarrassed than at present. 

So while Elain went with Mor, the rest of us finished our food and went to the bathing tents. We each pulled out our own respective buckets. Nesta, forced to come along, sat just outside with her nose in a book. I had no worries she’d go unbothered. I’d personally seen to the Illyrian and Dark Bringers' cooperation on that matter when Nesta and Elain had entered our protection. 

I waited for Azriel to finish his cleaning before even thinking about removing my armor. I didn’t expect to be attacked in my own camp but that thinking usually got people stabbed. Besides, most Illyrians don’t need a reason to fight if they think they can prove their strength. Azriel, impeccable as always, only had to unlace his vambrace to wash up to his elbows. When he was done, he nodded to me and took up watching my back. 

I quickly unlaced the fastenings on my vambrace, graves and left pauldron. When the breastplate came off, it nearly made a sucking noise with how plastered it was to my leather jerkin. The worst part was that the jerkin and cotton tunic had glued themselves together so they both came off. The slightly cold night air felt good on my skin and I didn’t care that the water was frigid. I had been forced at times to endure baths in the ice water in the Illyrian mountains. I could handle chilled water. 

I was used to my scars by now. Most of them were small as Illyrian healing was just as fast as a faes; however, if I was slow enough to earn many scars I’d be dead by now too. I wasn’t used to the sight of Lucien Vanserra’s chest. I thought the scar that started over his left temple sliced through the bottom cheek ended there. I hadn’t realized it continued down his left pectoral. Recreating what happened, I knew he had his head bent towards his chest. Either trying to avoid the blow or attempting to shield someone else but the blade had sliced from temple to chest in a savage strike that had taken his eye. 

His one good eye saw my stare. “A parting gift,” he replied, washing out his doublet. 

“Your father?” Azriel asked.

“No, my brothers,” he answered, lips thin. 

"They aren't your brothers then," Azriel replied flatly. Lucien and Azriel communicated in glances. "You should go to the Dawn Court and have that eye fixed." Lucien's mechanistic eye had stopped glowing since he was hit. The longer it sat, the worse off it looked no doubt relying heavily on the magic to keep it in place. 

"I'll have to see the specialist who designed me the eye. I haven't gone to the Dawn Court since Feyre was healing there. Or had been. To avoid more problems," he shrugged. 

"You're guarding Feyre’s sisters. I think Rhysand would embrace your problems,” I gave him a meaningful look. I could see the gears churning in his eyes about what I had said. Rhysand would back Lucien’s problems because, like it or not, Lucien was a part of the Night Court now. Rhysand was Lucien’s new High Lord. Though I could sympathize with Lucien’s difficulties in court loyalty, I had no experience to draw from. I had always been in the Night Court and an Illyrian. My loyalty to Rhysand hadn’t changed the prior facts. After Rhysand became High Lord, I never had a worry for my High Lord’s ambitions. Lucien had now experienced the corruption of two High Lords. It would take him time to come around to Rhysand. 

Luckily, Rhysand was equally weary of Lucien though Lucien wasn’t aware of that yet. Lucien had something that Rhysand prized above all else: Feyre’s unwavering trust. But Lucien’s previous position as Tamlin’s right hand put Rhysand in a dubious position. This one fae male was sitting, precariously balanced between the Spring and Night Courts and currently, that was one ugly spot to hold. Rhysand’s instincts were probably in complete uproar over him. That possessive asshole would rather Lucien go prove himself before getting anywhere near Feyre or her sisters. If Lucien’s loyalty switched at any point in time then the effects would be disastrous. But the part of Rhysand that trusted Feyre knew Lucien could be trusted too. 

I gladly stepped in to help this process all along. The sooner Lucien realized Rhysand would support him, the sooner Lucien would swear his loyalty and this tension could leave. Though I respected Lucien. He had earned it when he ignored Tamlin’s order to recognize Feyre’s right to lead and protect. No one should stop another from protecting what is dear to their heart. 

After dunking and washing my hair, we pulled on fresh pants and tunics. Lucien didn’t look out of place in the dark clothing but he seemed uncomfortable anyway. He hung his leather armor over his shoulder and focused on braiding those pieces of hair back at his temples. “What do you do the braids for? Isn’t that an Autumn Court practice?” I asked while we walked out. 

“It is,” he nodded. “But I earned the braids so I wear them,” he didn’t offer any explanation. There was some relationship to braiding the hair and levels of mastery but the topics were so far ranged that he could have earned them in anything. Lucien could have two braids for pottery making for all I knew. “Do your tattoos mean anything?” he asked while we rejoined Nesta outside. She pursed her lips when we all came out partially dripping. No doubt swallowing insults. 

“We get them when we are initiated...fully trained warriors,” I pulled open my tunic collar to show the swirling blank ink starting at the base of my neck. “They’re like runes. For luck and glory.” 

“And other Illyrian bullshit,” Azriel muttered, rolling his eyes. Nesta snorted in agreement and I narrowed my eyes. She pretended to be interested in some other Illyrians mulling through the camp with more armor to be repaired. 

“Don’t you have a bath to take?” I asked her. 

“Well if you are done primping, yes. I do,” she nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, sweetheart. You definitely  _ do _ ,” I retorted, marching right past her. I led them all towards Mor’s tent, hoping I wasn’t going to interrupt Elain’s bath. I had timed it perfectly though. Mor walked out of the tent as we crested the hill. 

“Cassian. Go get long nightgowns from the Winter Court.” Mor called once she spotted us cresting the hill. “Elain’s got my cloak but she needs longer clothes. And so does Nesta when her hot water arrives.” Nesta’s eyes were hungrily eyeing the tent. 

I let out a long sigh. The Winter Court was just a cold hell hole to me. Though Mor would argue differently, High Lord Kallias was just as cold. “Don’t you have-” the words died in my mouth. Mor’s red lips pursed in an unamused frown. “I guess you wouldn’t have a nightgown,” I mumbled. 

“We can get them from the Dawn Court. I was going to see if I could fix my eye,” Lucien offered. I knew there was a reason we kept him around. 

“Good, we’ll wait here for Nesta’s water,” Mor shooed me away. Lucien and I left them outside the tent and headed to the Dawn Court’s camp. 

The healer’s tent luckily had a bunch of faded nightgowns they kept for their patients. Though when I asked, they gave me bizarre looks. “They obviously aren’t for me,” I snapped at the old male healer who quizzically looked me up and down. Lucien bit his hand to keep from laughing too loudly. “I should have said you needed them,” I threatened but it was lost in the sound of his glee. 

“What size do you wear?” he asked. “Do they carry sizes for oversized bats?” at that point, he had dissolved into incoherent gasps for air. I huffed, leaning on one of the tent poles. Lucien continued to joke at my expense but I did my best to tune him out. 

When the errand boy returned, I had to leave Lucien behind. The healer, Nuan, had taken one look at his eye and sighed exasperatedly. I picked up my pace so I wouldn’t be included in Lucien’s scolding. As I left, I heard Nuan taunting Lucien that he was not allowed to get in fights since her handiwork usually paid the price for it. 

I walked with a couple of nightgowns in my arm back to Mor’s tent where she had conveniently disappeared with Nesta from. The tent was dead silent so I slipped in to throw the nightgowns on Mor’s bed. 

A quick gasp. I spun around. A split-second view of Nesta huddling against the bathtub wall. Something hard hit my face. I dropped my head, holding my eye where the object had struck. “What are you? A twelve-year old boy?” she scolded. “Get out of the tent!” 

“What did you hit me with?” I looked back up at her. Another mistake to be sure. She gasped again in outrage, her lean arm reeling back to pitch another object at me. I squinted at her hand, trying to place the thing. My blurred vision didn’t help me when that object was conveniently aimed at my groin. Pain exploded behind my vision and an  _ oof  _ escaped me. I doubled over, sucking in air. I knelt on the grassy floor, gasping. “What are you throwing at me, woman?” I breathed. 

“Why haven’t you left yet?” she demanded, peering over the tub at my decrepit form. I saw her narrowed eyes out of the corner of my vision. “I didn’t realize you were a degenerate as well as an overall ass,” she spat, splashing hot bathwater on my face. 

“I thought you were waiting on the hot water,” I pleaded for clemency, attempting to bite down on the pain.  _ She had muscle to be sure. And aim. Perfect fucking aim.  _ “Elain still needed a nightgown.” I didn’t know why I was explaining myself. 

“Stop speaking,” she yelled. “And leave already!” 

I lifted myself off the floor and slid towards the exit. “I didn’t purposefully spy on you,” I called over my shoulder. She didn’t respond. I couldn’t let the issue drop where it was so I sat outside the tent. I leaned my chin in my hand and waited, fuming the entire time. Only after a couple of moments I realized that Mor had a ward put up around the tent but  _ of course  _ she wouldn’t ward against me. She didn’t count on me being a complete idiot. It was really Mor’s fault of course.

“Cassian?” I looked up to see Mor giving me a confused look. “What are you doing here?” Her blonde hair swayed to one side. Her hand was perched on her hip and in the other, she carried the cloak she must have lent Elain. 

“I’ll walk Nesta back to her tent,” I ignored the question. My muttering made her more suspicious. “I thought that when I didn’t see you that you had taken Nesta and Elain so I...went in to drop off the nightgowns.” Mor’s face went from questioning to shock as I spoke. “I didn’t realize there were wards…” I defended myself despite there being nothing defendable. 

“Besides the fact there are several glaring issues with your story, are you sure Nesta even wants to  _ see  _ you?” she asked. 

“I gotta apologize, Mor,” I replied. 

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll go send her out,” she rolled her eyes. “Don’t blame me when she slaps you,” she said before disappearing into the tent. I realized I didn’t hear anything earlier because Mor’s ward had also blocked the sound. I buried my face in my palms.  _ Idiot.  _

The tent flap had no sooner been tossed aside and Nesta was out, marching past me in the direction of her own tent. I rose quickly and hurried after her. “Nesta, I didn’t mean...I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I’m sorry-” 

“I don’t care,” she shot back. 

My shoulders fell. “I do. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” She continued to walk at a brisk pace, settling in to ignore me. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. I kept thinking that embarrassment didn’t suit her. It was an odd expression on Nesta. She was proud and somehow, prudish discomposure seemed foreign to how I perceived her. Despite my thoughts, I continued to ramble. I told her that I wasn’t thinking and that I had thought the tent was empty. “I wasn’t thinking and I would never want to see-” 

“To see what?” she turned, eyes wide in alarm. Her wet hair clung to her neck and I was fascinated where it kissed her skin. The dark tendrils curled invitingly as they disappeared beneath the collar of her nightgown. “You would never want to see the ugly human? Only sneak peeks at the beautiful fae?” she accused, flaring her nostrils. 

“What?” I exclaimed. “No, definitely not.” I shook my head violently. Remembering the small glance of pale skin at her shoulder. The flush of her cheeks from the bath’s steam. Her soaked hair curling down her back. “No you’re...you’re beauty isn’t a debate,” I blinked. Even her narrowed eyes of steel were alluring. Inviting me to make poorly advised decisions. “I only could see your shoulder and neck and they were flawless so you’re definitely not...ugly,” I finished lamely, finding myself strangely tongue tied. 

I looked up to see her steel eyes assessing me with a keen eye. I thought I’d have to keep apologizing. At the last minute, one eyebrow arched. Her frown slid into an easy grin. It was the fire revealed in her eyes that told me I had been played for the fool. “Good to know,” she smirked. She cast an appraising glance over me from head to toe before disappearing into her own tent. I watched the doorway dumbly, fishing for some response I didn’t have. 

I had told myself I’d need to be watchful of Nesta’s second knife, that her real menace was due to an unseen strategy. It seems I had walked myself into her trap. Despite having been made a blustering fool of, I strolled away from the tent with a satisfied smile spread across my face. Worthy opponent, indeed. 


	55. Reunite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm deliriously tired so I haven't edited this chapter. If there are mistakes, I'll fix them in the morning when my brain comes back. :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

It had only been a day since I had last been at the war camps but the entire world had shifted for me in that span of time. Only yesterday that Tamlin had clutched my arms like I was his last lifeline while simultaneously degrading me. Yesterday afternoon, Rhysand had marched in and enacted the Code of the Fae, taking me from where Tamlin could reach me. In a couple of hours, we had admitted we loved each other. That the past few months felt unreal because we had feelings we couldn’t otherwise admit. 

That left me with several questions of my own.  _ By what right do I claim love of this male I hardly know?  _ But I felt as if I already knew the answer to that. It was intertwined with every memory I had of him. When he had saved Lucien during Amarantha’s challenge and gave me the answer to her riddle. Preventing her brutes from touching and beating me. Easily ending all the pointless tasks Amarantha assigned to trick or trap me into failing. In a place where not a soul loved me, he had mourned my death. 

The displays he had me put on, dancing drunkenly before a whole court of fae, couldn’t be rationalized so easily. I didn’t understand his motives but I was beginning to see many of his worse acts were a guise to cover his better ones. Despite the resistance at surrendering myself to the effects of the fae wine, I trusted him with my safety when I drank it. I knew that fae male wouldn’t hurt me. In a court where inflicting pain on others is encouraged and regarded as high entertainment, he had shielded me to that when he could have easily abused me. 

The other high fae couldn’t say the same. They had cheered for my death along with Amarantha so they could prolong their survival. Though I resented their submission, I understood their motives well. When life and death are so precariously balanced, you can find yourself very capable of unspeakable acts. It is where a person draws the line that they will not cross that defines their morality. Rhysand had drawn his at me. He’d sacrificed his own principles so many times before but found he could not surrender me. 

Though my feelings came from complicated situations, I found it easy to love him. 

When we winnowed to the edge of the war camp, he released his grip on me but I reached for his hand anyway. His eyes traveled from my brow to my lips and took me in, one feature at a time. Giving the barest of smiles, he squeezed my hand and we walked into the war camp together. 

“There are several things you must be aware of now that you are within my war camp,” Rhysand began, speaking lazily and walking at a sedate pace to accommodate the fact I still wore a saree with a relatively limited range of motion. “The Illyrian and Dark Bringer legions respect power and while I have no doubt you will be able to grind them into nothing but ashes soon, they will not bow until they have seen that first hand.”

“And if they challenge me?” I meant that as in to a duel but by Rhysand’s eyes, I believe he took it into an entirely separate context. His violet eyes turned electric like a sky in a lightning storm. 

“Crush them without mercy,” he said after a pause. “Punishments are very severe in their culture so breaking a few bones isn’t something that will be frowned upon at all.” Seeing my amused face, he added, “You’re power is equal to mine. If they are challenging you, they challenge me as well. I trust you’ll be able to divine an appropriate punishment for them,” we shared a smile that felt devious and almost sadistic. But that thrill of training pushed mine to cover my entire face. Once again, I was eager to get started. Somewhere buried in me was magic and power and I wanted to find it desperately. The idea that Rhysand was excited for me to discover this part of myself would remain a high I couldn’t quite recover from. 

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” I laughed in response. 

“Oh Feyre,” he said lowly, raising a single brow. “You couldn’t dare disappoint,” the blush spread from my cheeks and I looked away, attempting to salvage some pride. From how his eyes followed my every movement, I knew I hadn’t fooled anyone. We walked through the camp and each soldier who was awake, paused in their routine to watch us pass. Rhysand paid them no mind so I followed his lead, focusing on his words instead. We weaved through the camps and I attempted to note our steps so I could repeat them later on. Since all the tents were black, I figured I had no need to look out for Tamlin so I tried to keep my gaze ahead. All the soldier’s eyes didn’t help my own suspicions that his green ones would be among them. 

The perimeter of the camp was filled with sentinels and patrols followed by large black tents that served to house the majority of the host. Some smaller tents were kept separate for the Illyrian War Lords and the Dark Bringer Commanders. At the center of the encampment were several large circular practice rings for sparring and drills. Each of them were lined with logs for seats and racks on racks of every weapon feasible. The kitchen, washing and supply tents, and finally the mess hall were under much larger canvasses. He briefly pointed to where the horses were stabled on the other end of the camp but mentioned that cavalry wasn’t really needed for fae who could winnow and Illyrians that could fly. 

The camp, blessedly, smelled like freshly churned fields of wet mud and only the slightest hints of body odor. Rhysand had said that would get worse throughout the day after the training began. I gave up trying to keep clear of the mud and focused instead on keeping my cloth slippers from sticking in the mud. I pitied my saree that would need a thorough cleaning and thanked my past self for choosing the least fine of the gowns presented.  _ But I had liked this one the most _ , I sighed. 

All the muddy trails converged to a relatively untrodden path that took us up a grassy knoll. A row of black tents were kept up on it and I guessed the one with silver trim was Rhysand’s immediately. Rhysand saw my gaze and laughed, “How else would these cretins know I’m their High Lord?”

I was about to laugh when my eyes landed on a copper-haired figure that had just emerged from one of the tents. No sooner did our eyes meet did I throw away all pretense and run at Lucien, picking up my saree’s hem to sprint at him. I threw my arms around the fae and squeezed for all I was worth. I would have felt worse if Lucien hadn’t done the same himself. “You scared me half to death for a minute there,” he admonished softly. “When no one could find you...I thought Hybern-”

“Don’t even say it,” I breathed out, releasing him. “He was close but not that close,” I admitted. Rhysand, who had come to stand next to me, squinted at me. 

_ I’ll tell you later _ , no sooner had I released the words did I realize what I had done unintentionally. Rhysand was amused by my shock but his face was serious when he looked back at Lucien. “Thank you,” Lucien’s eyes were steady but I knew my friend and could see how shaken he had been by my absence. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I only did what was right,” Rhysand replied, oddly tense. “Come. We need to move to a place more private,” he reclaimed my hand and led us both to his tent. Spacious inside and simple. The table was the largest with numerous stool-like chairs sitting around along with a towering shelf of books and scrolls sitting next to it. A trunk and rather narrow bed were partially hidden behind a cloth privacy screen. 

No one was explaining what I was clearly lacking. Lucien finally said, “I was the one who told Rhysand he needed to go to you. No sooner had I spoken and Rhysand was moving.” 

“How did you know that?” I asked Lucien, confused. “I didn’t see you when I woke up. I didn’t even see Alis or Bron and Hart. Next thing I knew and a High Priestess was pushing me into the Andros for a bath,” I sat at the table, Lucien following my lead. Rhysand’s eyes hardened as I spoke. I had a feeling there were many things that had happened to me that would elicit the same response. I threaded my fingers through his. 

Lucien glanced at Rhysand but kept speaking, “Tamlin came to collect Elain and Nesta and...and he wasn’t the same.” Lucien seemed to falter for the right words, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be so shy, fox, he nearly knocked your eye out,” I turned behind me to see Cassian pushing into the tent. I didn’t have to go to him. He was already crushing me to his chest. “Felt like you were playing hide and seek for a while,” he released me and I sucked in a breath. “You can’t get out of training that easy,” he playfully nudged my chin, warm eyes delighted by my breathlessness. 

“I was just hiding from your awful sense of humor.” 

Cassian belted out a laugh, clapping an affectionate hand on Lucien’s shoulder. Though from Lucien’s stiff face I would have bet it hurt worse than it seemed. _Getting along_ _I see,_ I thought and this time, I realized Rhysand heard as well. _Is that new?_ I tentatively said. 

_ No, I think you’re getting a little more adept at your magic though,  _ Rhysand easily replied without skipping a beat in his conversation.  _ You’ll get used to dividing your attention soon enough _ . Somehow I could sense the period in his words, letting me know he was done speaking. 

Elain was next through the tent and despite all the strife, had not lost her inner joy. She threw her arms around me and squeezed my neck for all she was worth. “We were told you were coming back at dawn and I didn’t want to miss you,” she blurted out, face buried in my hair. 

“I’ve missed you too,” I said, meaning it. My relationship to them has always been complex. Nesta and I reacted with coldness and Elain at times seemed indifferent. I had judged them so harshly for not following my lead into the woods. I resented that they never noticed my struggles. But those past feelings seemed petty and unimportant when I was faced with the present. When I turned to them for help, they complied and I relished in that slowly repairing bridge. We were a long way from perfect but I could content myself with our progress. 

Nesta hung back before approaching. If she noticed Rhysand sitting besides me, she didn’t show it. She lifted her hand and I took the sign to slip mine into hers. I squeezed hers softly, still unsure if my fae strength was beyond my noticing. “It’s good you’re here,” she said with a wry smile. “It’s been dull without you.” 

“Dull?” Cassian spluttered. His eyes were indignant. 

“What have you done?” I asked Nesta, staring her down. I didn’t need to ask Cassian. I knew he was guilty without him opening his mouth. But Nesta’s knowing eyes told me all I needed to know. 

“Nothing but die of boredom,” she replied flatly and I could  _ feel  _ the painful truth in those words. 

I was surprised to see Azriel slip into the tent next. I momentarily debated hugging him but threw caution to the wind. With everyone rejoining, I was abuzz with nervous energy. Azriel didn’t start at me hugging him and even wrapped his arms lightly around me in return. I thought his shadows would feel cold against my skin but instead they came across like a dull pressure, prodding at my skin. 

I didn’t need to greet him. Something about Azriel’s presence needed no introduction, pleasantries or needless speech. He knew I was relieved to see him and he was just as glad to see me. 

“The fact that Feyre still likes either of you only makes me nervous to start her training sooner,” Rhysand said from behind me. I knew they probably would have missed the gaze but I knew his beseeching eyes and quietly retook my seat besides him, lacing my fingers with his. Cassian produced some dry fruit from the shelves behind him, passing it out to everyone. When we had all grabbed some, Rhysand began. “Feyre will need to train and quick. Cassian, pass your training for the legions to Mor. You’ll be training Feyre each morning. Where is Mor?” 

“If that’s the case, Feyre, I wouldn’t eat. It will come up later on,” Cassian’s eyes winced as he spoke, motioning to the dried slices of pineapple I munched on. I sighed, dropping them on the table. It would have been a tolerable loss if Cassian hadn’t then swooped in and stole them for himself. “Mor is at the High Lord’s meeting.” 

Rhysand sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose I should see how that goes.” I had been nervous to see Tamlin in the Night Court’s camp. I wanted to avoid the male at all costs. I didn’t think I could sit across a table from him and be civil. Some anger still boiled down inside of me and I thought that I opened my mouth to the male, it would come out as fire.  _ I don’t think I can... _ I failed to finish the sentence. 

_ You won’t have to yet. Train with Cassian for the day and we can take it day by day _ , Rhysand soothed. His words were like hands massaging my shoulders, bleeding all the tension from my mind in slow strokes. 

_ I would like to be there someday _ , I assured. 

_ Say the word, Feyre.  _ Though the others were talking, his eyes and mine locked for a brief moment and I found my anxiety tolerable. Breathing was easier and my worries more manageable. “We also must address that Nesta and Elain, while delightful company, are in danger as are the rest of the refugees. Hybern’s troops have been inching closer every chance they have gotten.”

“Where do you want to move them?” I turned to him.  _ To Velaris?  _

_ If they agree, yes. It would be safe.  _ He smoothly replied, “The Night Court would be safe, far from Hybern’s reach.” 

“No,” Nesta replied, voice harder than I had thought to expect from her over the issue. I had thought she’d want to escape the war camp as soon as she could. “We should stay together.” Cassian looked to Nesta like he was going to speak but kept his mouth closed. 

“It would be safer,” I replied. “For you and Elain.” 

“Everytime we are apart, bad things happen,” Elain joined. The room visibly sobered. “Anyway, why should we be protected while the remainder of the refugees are out in the open?” she asked quietly. 

“The refugees will also be moved,” Rhysand supplied. “Though I am not sure where. They wouldn’t last in the Winter Court and I think High Lord Beron would hunt them for sport if we moved them into the Autumn Court without his permission,” Rhysand scowled. Lucien nodded in agreement. 

Nesta watched Rhysand and I with her assessing grey eyes. “Fine but that’s far enough.” Nesta’s commanding attitude made it abundantly clear what she thought of leaving the camps. I hadn’t thought that Nesta and Elain would be so affected when I had sent Lucien and them ahead. I knew they would worry but they acted as if I left their sight, they’d never see me again. I had thought they’d resent me for pulling them from their home but they seemed to have found a second home here and resisted the idea of leaving it. In a way, that was for the better. Nesta and Elain would want to stay with us after the war then and I wouldn’t have to say goodbye. I pushed down my train of thought then, tamping down on the harsh reality of my immortality and what it meant. 

“Well, if that’s settled…” Cassian rose slowly, eyes staring me down. “We should start now before you lose all your nerve.” As I watched him eagerly appraise me like he knew how best to break me, I swallowed all lingering nervousness. 

_ Bring it on _ , I resolved. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My back hit the ground and I lost all the air in my chest for what must have been the hundredth time today. I rolled to my side and sucked in deeply. Sweat dripped from my forehead into my eye. Cassian had me running all day with breaks spent sparring and rehearsing punches or kicks. He had been right about not eating breakfast. I had vomited anyway though it came up dry the first time he landed a kick to my abdomen. 

We trained further north in the Summer Court, beyond the scope of patrols and Hybern’s reaches. Until I could hold my own, it was better no one saw me weak. Rhysand hadn’t elaborated but I felt his nervousness through our bond. He was concerned about my vulnerability and was attempting to check himself. 

“Stop leaning in with only your fists. If you’re going to throw a punch, step into it first or I’ll keep kicking your ass all night if I have to,” Cassian leaned over me, offering me a hand. 

“You’ve got a wide stance,” I replied, letting him lift me completely off the ground. Rhysand had pulled out spare training clothes for me almost identical to the ones he gifted me before. I had left them at the Spring Court manor much to my disappointment. Though when he produced a second set, I had quirked a brow at his preparedness. He had pointedly told me they were his cousin, Mor’s. Luckily, they fit like a glove. Except I had to lace the chest twice as tight. 

Cassian chuckled. “That’s a part of offense is knowing how to get past the defense,” he said, holding up his hands again. “I want you to approach now and instead of looking to hit me, I want you to attempt to touch my chest,” he tapped the center of his breastplate. 

He waved me forward and we danced around each other. His feet were always firmly planted and his arms closely guarding his chest. When he moved to strike, I dodged and spun away. At this point in the day, Cassian had openly proclaimed me the _Queen of Flight_ because I could avoid his punches and kicks but had yet to throw my own.   
After avoiding for so long, I got impatient. If I was going to be knocked on my ass, I might as well get it over with. The next time his left fist came out, I raised my forearm into his, pushing it up. I had thrown my whole weight into the motion and not only did I push his arm away but threw myself into his chest with an audible _oof_. 

Easily reacting, Cassian dropped low and wrapped his arms around my legs. He threw me off balance and tossed me over his back. I toppled past his wings and landed as a crumpled heap on the ground. “That...was pitiful but you’re getting it,” he offered me his hand again. I had tried to be sneaky at one point and pull him off balance but the solidly built male had only smirked. 

So this time, I took his hand and kicked out his feet. He fell besides me, laughing loudly. “Asshole,” I muttered, rolling to my aching side and pushing myself onto my feet. He only laughed louder. 

Though I was sore and bruised all over my body, I was happy. Happy in a way that spoke of deep satisfaction. I knew the pain was temporary because everything else felt right. Seeing my sisters had settled in me the rising worry over their wellbeing. Even Lucien, dressed in Night Court black, seemed right to me. Cassian drilling me was painful but welcome. Pieces had fallen into place and I felt like I was where I was meant to be all along. 

“You’ll be calling me worse by tomorrow,” he promised, rising to his feet. I “Ready to call a quits?” he said, offering me his hand. His knowing eyes following my slumped over form. My spine had turned to liquid and I couldn’t find the strength in me to right it again. I nodded, taking his hand without question. 

I had somehow been expecting to winnow. Not for him to scoop me up and launch us past the canopy, into the air. It was a nice surprise when the wind rushed past my face. “I see Rhysand has thoroughly ruined the surprise,” he huffed when he saw I wasn’t scared. 

“Oh believe me, Rhysand did a good enough job of terrifying me at first,” I yawned, smiling contentedly. I had one arm draped around his shoulders, not caring that we practically were stuck on each other like glue from all the sweat. Cassian was saying something but my head rested on his shoulder and my mind shut off. I fell asleep for the short trip from our make-shift training site to when he touched down just outside of Rhysand’s tent. 

“Oh so now you wake up?” he joked, lightly setting me down. I gave him a sheepish smile but he nudged me forward anyway. 

Rhysand emerged from the tent just in time to watch me stumble forward. He took in the mud caking my body with an appraising glance. I knew my hair had fallen from it’s braid and plastered my neck. Cassian raised his hands, propelling himself wisely into the air before Rhysand could question why I favored my left leg. 

“Rough day?” he asked, unsurely. I lazily wondered if he had been waiting on me all day. I broke out into a toothy grin. “Yes,” I breathed out proudly. 

He relaxed, smiling with me. He ushered me into the tent and I was brought awake by the steam. A bath sat in the center. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he chuckled. I didn’t even have time to thank him, he disappeared quickly and closed the flaps behind him. 

I eyed the walls, watching them shimmer.  _ Magic _ , I thought tiredly. I peeled off my clothes, disgusted they all made a sucking noise. I barely tested the water temperature and instead chose to risk it all and throw my body over the rim. I fell into the scalding hot water with abandon. The tub was big enough if my legs were bent to my chest and I found I didn’t care. It eased all my screaming muscles and that was good enough for me. 

I let the water permeate through my body until I was numb. With heavy hands, I took the bar of soap and scrubbed another layer of skin off. Only when the water had gone cold did I pull myself out and sort through the towel and clothes left for me. 

_ I’ll be in a few minutes, _ he warned. 

_ Is that my warning to be decent?  _ I shot back. 

_ Or not.  _

I bit my lip, wondering how I could still be blushing from how exhausted I was. I trudged to the bed in the corner and fell into it, sinking my face into one of the pillows. The citrus smell was even more comforting than the hot water had been. I wrapped my arms around the pillow and laid there in peace. I rolled over to prevent me from falling asleep before he could come back. 

When he walked in, he gave the bath a glance before it winked out of existence. He carried a plate of food. “What did you do?” I asked from the bed. When he found me lying on the bed, his lips formed a small, proud smile. 

“I winnowed it away. After you learn winnowing for yourself, it becomes easy to move other things as well. Though learning winnowing to begin with is a bit of a challenge,” he sat at the foot of the bed. “I brought you food. Thought you would want to be spared the mess hall for your first night,” he said. 

With more energy than I had previously thought I possessed, I sat up to take the plate of boiled barley and oats. A dried piece of meat was sitting on the side like a suspicious sort of treat. I ate it anyway, scarfing down the plate in record time. He watched me eat with a soft look in his eyes but he said nothing, just sitting the plate down for me. I guess I should have tried to eat less like a half-starved animal. 

“Are you sleeping soon?” maybe it was my exhaustion, but I found I didn’t care to dance around the topic. Though more than anything, I relished the opportunity to spend another night in his arms and was willing to do almost anything to ensure he stayed. 

“I wasn’t likely to leave you here unguarded,” he admitted. “But I was going to ask if-”

“Don’t,” I said quietly. Our eyes met. Even when our minds spoke to each other, it was never as intimate as the voice I had spoken with. Soft and pleading. “Don’t go.” He swallowed through whatever nervousness laid behind his eyes. 

He nodded shyly, shedding his armor for the first time in front of me. I watched him with unguarded curiosity as he unlatched the breastplate and then dug his fingers into the ties of his vambraces and greaves. When he changed into his loose-fitting pants, I forced myself to lower my eyes. I scooched into the bed to give him room to crawl in. As he settled, I watched the tattoo on his chest with interest. 

“Where did you get those?” I asked quietly, trying not to study his chest too deeply. We both had fae noses and my blush would extend into next week if he were to sense any of the feelings that coiled deep within me. 

“It’s an Illyrian rite of passage,” he said, his voice hoarser. His head fell to the side and even in the dim lighting, his eyes were vibrant. “When an Illyrian finishes their training and the Blood Rite,” he answered, eyes hungrily taking me in. 

“What's the Blood Rite?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation from quieting. If I was left alone with my thoughts, I would combust. He complied and told me softly, describing how they were left in the mountains with their wings bound. Told to survive in the cold Illyrian Steppes. 

** One thing I learned about my mate that night was that he was a beautiful storyteller. He painted vivid images of him, Cassian and Azriel fighting to get to each other. How they all watched for each other, knowing they’d be stronger together. The last thing I remembered him saying before I drifted off was how his court was used to fighting for each other.  _ Not anymore _ , I remembered thinking to him.  **


	56. Unfold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the plot seems slow moving (i can't tell if it is). I SWEAR that the details matter later on. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Morrigan:**

When Rhysand had returned by dawn, I had already been in the High Lord’s meeting. They had been vying for a meeting. The one aspect I had learned when dealing with High Lords is that they don’t favor the idea of waiting. Even Tarquin had furrowed his brows when I asked for more time. That was unfortunate as the next topic we were to discuss was the refugees and the Human Queens. Rhysand had been debating when he should tell them of his and Feyre’s bargain and it was now or never. 

Since Feyre’s letter to the Human Queens had already been sent, it needed to be now. 

I sat in Rhysand’s seat as he would: with lazy ambivalence. I chose my normal armor but made sure it was cleaned well. My hair was tied back in a long braid with smaller braids integrated in with it. When you dealt with the High Lords, it was good practice to ensure nothing could be used against you. And the High Lords would love nothing more than the mere distraction of reminding the room that you smell. 

I got there early so I wouldn’t have to experience all their eyes swinging to me as I made my seat. I wanted to see everyone walk in so I could analyze their intent better. As it was Tarquin’s camp and tent, he was the earliest and with him were Varian and Cresseida. They stiffened when I entered.  _ Secret conversations _ , I thought giddily. 

“I’ll be sitting in for High Lord Rhysand,” I bowed my head and walked to take a seat at the table. 

“He hasn’t returned with his mate yet?” Varian asked.  _ It would be a battle then _ , I sighed. 

“He’s unable to attend this meeting. He sends his regrets,” I replied, leaning back into the seat and making a great show of getting comfortable. The other High Lords, I had noticed, didn’t usually send diplomats in their stead like Rhysand did. I could imagine the other courts balked at the mere mention so I made sure that my presence went doubly noticed.  _ Let it unsettle them that they can be so easily replaced.  _

Varian pursed his lips as he stared me down and I returned it with ease. Though the male’s stiffness seemed laughable, I knew he could drown an army with half a thought. But it was Cresseida who stood dutifully by their sides that was rumored to be able to stop a person’s blood in their heart. She regarded me with the same weariness she had when we donned our armor to find our wayward High Lords.  _ That  _ wasn’t as easily brushed off. I thought at some point she’d warm up to me. 

But instead her sea blue eyes seemed like ice, pinning me to my seat in a cold stare. Her black skin contrasted them to the point I could only be caught by their gaze, looking nowhere else. “But High Lord Rhysand  _ did _ enact the Code of the Fae to claim Feyre, High Lord Tamlin’s betrothed, as his mate?” she asked. 

I could only evade so long as I wasn’t asked direct questions. Or the High Lords stopped thinking it cute. If Tarquin’s face was any judge, I had ceased being cute the moment I stepped in. “You’re correct.” 

Tarquin leaned back in his seat, fingertips tapping the table. “That will not serve our war effort well. It divides us even further.” 

“With all due respect, High Lord Tarquin,” I began with as much sincerity I could muster. “You all were already divided. High Lord Rhysand and High Lord Tamlin were not allies to begin with so this has changed nothing. High Lord Rhysand intends to see Hybern dead. It is up to the High Lord of Spring to decide his course,” I said firmly, but without condescension. 

He watched me before breaking into a small smile. “You are right, Morrigan. Truth does suit you well.” 

The complement and small victory would have been sweeter had I not needed to reveal what would definitely be taken as deception on Rhysand’s part. I only gave him the barest of nods and resigned myself to wait for the others. 

The day got significantly worse when copper hair not belonging to Lucien strode in. The seventh High Lord had finally arrived and Beron looked none too eager for it. He claimed the last seat, conveniently located directly across from me. “I thought this was the High Lords meeting,” he grumbled. Behind him, Eris stood and eyed me like you would a snake beneath your boot. In the short time I had come to know Lucien, I now could easily distinguish between him and his family. Lucien's features were softer than theirs and skin darker, giving him a warmer look. Lucien reminded me of freshly heated steel, red hot from the flames. Eris was only pale and narrow looking, a sharp contrast to his magic and near a spitting image of his father. 

“Lady Morrigan is here on behalf of High Lord Rhysand,” Tarquin easily replied. Though Varian and Cresseida could be thorns in my side, I appreciated Tarquin attempting to stand up for me. Part of me wondered how well he knew of my past with the Autumn Court but I wanted to think that wouldn’t matter to Tarquin. Like Rhysand, I wanted to think of Tarquin as a better male. 

The other High Lords slipped in one by one. When Helion arrived, he spotted me and snickered, obviously knowing where Rhysand was currently. Undoubtedly believing Rhysand had skipped a meeting to be with his freshly anointed mate. 

It was High Lord Tamlin who arrived last. Even if he had winnowed, his presence would have permeated the room just as quickly.  He looked impeccable. Sharp green doublet covered by hardened leather armor that was tailored to every muscle the High Lord possessed. As the High Lord with the most brute strength, he had no shortage of musculature. His blond hair was cut right at his shoulders, giving him a look of severity. No piece of his dress was out of place. 

It was his eyes that killed all laughter in the room. Narrowed and murderous. No longer vibrant but instead deeply set among shadows in his face. He scanned the room with a gleam I did not like. His lips were frowning in a cruel, thin line. 

_ He looked like Kier _ , I realized and let my hand tighten on my armchair incrementally. 

“We have several needs to see to today. Mostly, the refugees need to be moved. This camp has become the war front and we can’t continue to have our citizens at the center of it. I recommend the Autumn Court but we have yet to hear a report from you, High Lord Beron,” Tarquin started boldly. In an underhanded way, he had shamed Beron for keeping away from the war for as long as he could. If Tarquin kept speaking that way to Beron, I’d have guessed he was flirting with me. 

Beron noted the insult with a slant of his thin lips. Eris rolled his eyes and I wanted to smack him. “We had to prepare as well. None of you bothered to close the caves to Under the Mountain so we had to dedicate effort to seeing them guarded.” 

“When was this going to be communicated?” Kallias sighed out. Viviane wasn’t with him this time but I knew if she was here, she would have pressed a comforting hand to her mate’s shoulder. 

“We were too busy acting,” Beron spat back. “It's easy to pass judgement when your court is so inhospitable, Hybern might just leave it untouched to seek better lands elsewhere,” he hissed and the room became several degrees warmer. “We began closing the caves with wards a month ago. We’ve left it guarded so Hybern can’t surprise us.” 

Helion’s outstretched hand caught everyone’s attention. 

He leaned forward to grab a grapevine from the untouched fruit bowl at the center of the table. He plucked off one...two...three grapes before chewing them with consideration. Swallowing, he squinted at Beron. “Hybern brought down...the Wall and you think that some scrap of a ward made by the  _ Autumn Court _ is going to stop his forces?” Helion chuckled, plucking the next grape off between his teeth. “You’ve gotten stupid in your old age, Beron.” 

Beron snarled. “I left a third of my forces defending those caves to protect all of your asses. I didn’t hear a word from any of you asking to close the caves...Hybern could have marched into our war camp with his full might and you all would have been slaughtered the moment you were within range.” 

I was dying to mention that Feyre, untrained with her magic and not yet awoken either, had marched an entire force of humans straight through his wards without even noticing. Though none of the High Lords yet knew of Feyre’s abilities and that was not a piece of information sold so cheaply. If I had a mind to destroy the war effort by dividing our forces, that would have been the key. That secret would need to be revealed as well but at Feyre's discretion. 

“Thank you for your effort,” Helion smiled and I bit my inner cheek to keep from laughing. 

Beron looked like he would combust but Thesan, blessedly, spared us all. “Beron is right. We have left ourselves open.” Beron only looked semi-pleased by Thesan’s appraisal. Rhysand had Illyrians monitoring the caves nearest our camp but a piece of me knew that Beron had done the right thing. I wouldn’t admit that though. “As a result, we have left our citizens open as well.” 

“Spring Court fae have been fleeing into the Autumn Court in varying degrees over the past few days,” Beron shook his head. 

“Thank you,” Tamlin nodded, his gravelly voice sobered the room. 

“I didn’t do it to gain favor,” Beron’s lip lifted in disgust. “I did because every fae Hybern takes is another fae he can experiment on.” Heads lifted and turned. Beron smiled, knowing he sat on a key piece of information. “A captured Summer Court soldier escaped. He made it to our borders and he said that Hybern is putting fae in the Cauldron. He’s looking for something...he keeps putting more fae in every day. But they all either come out as those monsters we see ravaging our people or they die,” he said the last few words slowly, dragging out their effect. It felt like a heavy blanket he slowly suffocated us all with. 

“Those creatures we see were...our people?” Tarquin choked. Beron nodded and Tarquin planted his face in his hands. It had been Tarquin’s idea to use his remaining forces to set up dedicated patrols for hunting the monsters that escaped the battle. He had sent his own soldiers to murder his own people.

“There aren’t your people anymore. There is no saving them. It seems the Cauldron only gives,” Beron shook his head. 

“My scribes have found something of relative import,” Helion began. “It’s only a theory but it says that the Cauldron made fae from humans. If fae were Made originally, it stands to reason the Cauldron cannot give without destroying. Perhaps the stronger fae are turned into those abominations and the weaker ones die,” Helion thought aloud when I wished he wouldn’t. 

“As disturbing as that is, it all means nothing if we don’t know  _ what  _ he is trying to create,” Kallias shook his head. “He has a weaponized Cauldron as well as an insurmountable army along with a trove of faebane we don’t know how he cultivated in such large quantities. What more could that vermin want for?” 

“Absolute power,” Helion speculated, rolling his eyes. 

"Our heads," I added. 

“We need to get our hands on the Book,” Tarquin returned our focus to the crux of the issue. “We can’t afford to lose anymore time.” 

I took that as my cue to throw myself headfirst into the Cauldron itself. “High Lord Rhysand has already begun implementing a plan to communicate with the Human Queens.” Now it was my turn to watch as all eyes swiveled to land on me. Tamlin’s eyes were noted as they reduced me to rubble with their hatred. 

Beron snorted, distracting me from the venom in Tamlin’s heart. “And you blamed me for not communicating my plans, Kallias?” Beron cocked his head to Kallias. Kallias wasn’t listening. His ice eyes were staring at me with the rest of the tables. I couldn't decipher their looks fast enough. 

“High Lord Rhysand couldn’t communicate this until the situation had resolved itself,” I replied easily. I avoided looking at High Lord Tarquin, or Varian and Cresseida. Our two courts had been together since the start of this war and Rhysand had still chosen to keep them in the dark. Not trying to make them beg for information, I forged on. “The Human Queens are not going to listen to fae. We have never had their interests at heart and they know it. All of you have sent a letter, I am sure, to the Human Queens and have not heard back.” Their looks of annoyance confirmed this for me. Only Tamlin squinted further. _Of course_ _you wouldn't lower yourself to write the letter_ , I mentally seethed. 

I took stock of the table and their reactions, attempting to prepare myself for the worst. At best, they looked at me suspiciously. Tamlin didn’t pretend to have anything but hate for me. It was Tarquin’s look of betrayal I found the most disturbing. But even more so, Cresseida, who looked like she was validated in her distrust of me. She was not surprised. She had expected betrayal from me, my court. It was her I spoke to. “He knew they would listen to someone who cared for the human cause.” Tamlin already was leaning back in his chair. He knew what I was going to say. “The  _ only  _ condition of his bargain to Lady Feyre was that she write that letter, pleading for them to hear us out.” 

Everyone in the room followed suit, leaning away from me and focusing on their thoughts. The silence was so painful my chest hurt. I wanted to wince, prepare myself for their outburst. “And you expect us to believe that now? After you have conveniently hid a treasure trove of information from us for so long?” Tarquin shook his head. 

“At the moment of the bargain, Lady Feyre was still in residence at the Spring Court. Whatever Rhysand revealed would directly impact her wellbeing. As her mate, he had the right to seek to protect her.” Much to my relief, Helion and Thesan nodded with me. They had been Rhysand’s witnesses when he went to claim Feyre. I knew without a shadow of a doubt they saw who Tamlin was. 

Kallias’s hands smacked down on the table and I struggled not to jump halfway from my seat. I wished my inner circle was here. “We’re at  _ war _ . Everyday we lose more soldiers. This isn’t the time for Rhysand to believe he knows best,” Kallias shouted, my friend no longer. I was undecided if I was lucky or not Viviane wasn’t present. I didn’t have to see the hurt in my friends eyes but I knew I would not sleep tonight without dreaming of it. 

But Kallias's outburst gave me the momentum I needed for all my anger to bubble out of me. I could concede that Rhysand should have communicated this earlier, perhaps only to Tarquin. But I would not be sitting silent as they debated Rhysand's motivations. 

“And High Lord Rhysand has been fighting here since the beginning. He was the first to call attention to Hybern reassembling the Cauldron. You all dismissed him as a puppet of Hybern,” I yelled at the table, losing my temper. They should count themselves blessed that it was my rage they faced. Cassian and Azriel would have already unsheathed their weapons and Amren would never have been addressed with such blatant aggression. She would have been levelling this entire room with a wave of her hand. “You may not have set fire to your own lands but your negligence was enough for Hybern to do it himself. From the beginning, High Lord Rhysand has fought for our victory and yet you all sit here, debating his loyalty.” 

They were silent, staring anywhere but where I heaved. 

“Coming from the deceiver herself,” High Lord Beron’s voice rang out. “You weren’t Under the Mountain,  _ girl _ . Rhysand’s loyalties are always where they suit him.” 

I didn’t have the time to respond. Tamlin released a loud sigh. Eyes moved from me to him. Everyone was eager to see the High Lord of Spring speak on the matter of Rhysand. “It is convenient, is it not? That Rhysand only deals in matters that benefit him. He was Amarantha’s whore until Feyre arrived and he  _ quickly _ made sure to align himself with the woman who would free us. He makes a bargain with Feyre and uses her to get the Book of Breathings but didn’t share his intentions all this time," he paused, eyes glancing around the room. Satisfied he was sowing enough doubt, he continued. "When he is questioned, he enacts the Code of the Fae. Who could question a male on their mate, afterall?” I reigned in my magic hard. In a room full of liars, my magic was well suited. They’d all admit their falsehoods and by the time they had finished, their shame would be heavy enough to crush them. _ If my magic didn’t first, that is.  _

I would start with Tamlin first. “Are you saying the Lady Feyre is not High Lord Rhysand’s mate? That has been proven-” 

“It hasn’t,” Helion sighed, rubbing his temples. I was suddenly angry at him. He could have bypassed Tamlin's obvious slander if he had checked for the mating bond. 

A loud _crack_ filled the air. Tamlin’s face snapped instantaneously, changing from calm to enraged. His claws sunk into the table, making it rattle. “You took her when you didn’t even know? You let him have her when you had not even bothered to check?”

“The last I remember, Tamlin, your claws were slicing the Lady Feyre’s arms much like you are doing to that table now. Regardless of Helion’s decision, you were hardly her safest option,” Thesan said to Tamlin. They sat next to each other and Thesan barely balked at the red, bleeding into Tamlin’s vision. He was calmer than I was and I was across the table. I guess when you can heal from an ash arrow without so much a thought, you didn't worry about petty things like Tamlin's claws that could cut males into two. 

Tamlin was near foaming. “He has played you all for fools and  _ lied  _ to make all his actions redeemable. I demand their mating bond be proven-” 

“And it will,” Helion bit out, holding up his hand to stop Tamlin from another tirade. 

“Rhysand can’t be there. If he is, he will ensure we all see what he wants,” Tamlin demanded, his doublet and hair were now disheveled from how he thrashed about. His fangs were near poking out from his top jaw. Though he looked angry, his voice almost sounded hungry with restlessness. _He thinks he has trapped Rhysand in a scheme_ , I realized. 

“You can’t keep mates apart by the Code of the Fae, Tamlin,” Kallias reminded, glaring at how easily Tamlin challenged the mating bond. Though Tamlin had done an effective job at casting a fair amount of doubt onto Rhysand’s shoulders, he had won himself no friends. 

“Then you won’t ever convince me. If you think he isn’t strong enough to break your mental barriers without you noticing, you’re all more stupid than I previously thought.” Tamlin was right but no one at the table was willing to listen to him insult them. 

“Enough,” Tarquin snapped. “Lady Morrigan. You’ll tell High Lord Rhysand he will produce the Lady Feyre tomorrow. Every High Lord will be present and the matter will be decided. I will not spend more time squabbling over ill-conceived plots and fairytales. I expect honesty from this day forward or else we can all offer our necks to Hybern’s axe,” Tarquin’s chest was heaving. 

No one needed further encouragement. The High Lords left and winnowed away with various amounts of grumbling. Only when Cresseida walked from the tent did I also leave, hurrying to catch her. “Cresseida,” I finally called out when I realized she was purposefully avoiding me. I tried to ignore how that stung but failed. Her sea blue eyes were accusing when she spun to face me. “I wanted to tell you,” I breathed out when I met up with her. 

“Why would you? The Night Court does as they always have.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” I furrowed my brows. “We have fought alongside you since Adriata was attacked.” That was early fall and winter was almost here. We had been fighting since the beginning. “We would never align with Hybern. We fought against him in the War for Mother’s sake,” I cried out, hands splayed at my side. “Why is it so difficult to believe that we aren’t the enemy?”

** Cresseida kept shaking her head, licking her lips. “I don’t believe you are the enemy,” she sighed out. “But you haven’t been our ally either,” she stressed the word  _ ally _ . She took one last glance of my crestfallen face before leaving me.  **


	57. See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

It was his smell that made me aware of his presence. In any normal occurrence, I would have said he smelled like the forest in the day. When the sunlight has warmed the earth and the cedar woods were most fragrant. Covered in sweat and dirt, his smell was doubly invasive. I sat nearly five paces from him and felt as if he had shoved cedar wood into my nose. 

“How did I know I would find you here?” he drawled, slowly walking towards me. Because I had picked a table between the library shelves, he was forced to inch sideways to meet me. But instead of looking ridiculous, his slinking form looked predatory. A day of training should have made him look tired but his eyes were alive with excitement. 

“Because you have some remaining intelligence, scarce as it is,” I sighed, flipping the page of my book. I tensed subconsciously as he came nearer. My shoulders locked and my crossed legs tightened against one another. 

“I’ll pretend that hurt,” he replied. 

“And I’ll pretend you’re not here.” 

His eyes flattened and he placed a hand on the page I was reading. “Now that’s something we both know you aren’t capable of,” his fingers inched their way to the cover of the book, easing it closed. I turned to face him from my seat, resenting the difference in our heights but unwilling to get any closer. 

“What do you want, Cassian?” I resigned myself that I wouldn’t be studying with him nearby. He distracted me for numerous reasons and none of which I was willing to disclose. At the moment though, his smell was enough. In the Summer Court heat, the tent was suffocatingly hot. The cedar stench roiling off him made the air heady almost. My head felt light and I couldn’t decide if it was from the temperature or his presence, realizing that annoyed me. 

“I didn’t know we were on a first name basis,” he smiled, tucking that information away for later. I cursed myself and my light-headedness for the slip. He drew my attention back to him when he leaned casually on the shelf. “I want to know why you won’t go to the Night Court.” 

I knew he would be curious over that. His eyes had not ceased following every movement of mine that morning until Rhysand had winnowed Cassian and Feyre from sight. The questions in his eyes haunted me endlessly until I sought refuge in Helion’s libraries. I huffed a laugh, “It hardly concerns you.” 

He raised an eyebrow as if to say  _ liar _ . “It most certainly does concern me. Lucien isn’t the only one that has been protecting you,” he pointed out. 

“I didn’t ask for either Lucien’s or your protection. Or anyones for that matter.”

His face grew serious. Eyes were hard. “Even if you can’t perceive the threat against you, I will still protect you from it,” he ground out. His wings twitched a little, almost flaring until they realized they were pinned by the shelves. 

“Why?” 

He licked his bottom lip and I followed the act like it could give me the answers I knew Cassian wouldn’t. “I don’t think there is anything more worth my life than protecting those who can’t defend themselves,” he replied, eyes too honest for my comfort but I couldn’t tear mine away. I was warming from reasons not entirely due to temperature but I continued to meet his gaze. To make matters worse, he took to one knee and leaned himself on the desk. If he moved a little closer, his knee would be pressed to my thigh. Reclaiming my eyes, he added, “And you and Elain are in danger remaining here. You should go to the Night Court. You’ll be safer there until this war is over.” 

“No,” I stated, eyes hardening in the face of his openness. 

He sighed, glancing away. “Dammit it, why not?” 

“I don’t have to explain all my reasons to you,” I meant the words to come out with more bite but failed. I spoke in almost a low whine and I hated the sound of it. I was too close to him. My senses were a wreck and I could hardly keep my head clear. Sweat fell from my hairline. All I could think of was the smell of cedar.  _ Damn this male.  _

“Please,” he added, continuing to study me. 

_ Damn this male.  _

I looked away but I felt his gaze as sure as I did the heat. 

_ Damn this male.  _

When I glanced back, he was still watching me. His eyes were devoid of judgement. They awaited me like open arms instead: inviting and warm. With the soft light filtering into the tent, I could see gold buried in the hazel. I hated myself even more because I caved. I told myself it was just to get him to leave me alone. I knew I was a liar. “Despite popular belief, I care for Feyre’s well-being. I won’t leave her alone again.” 

Everything I expected didn’t happen. It never did with Cassian. He didn’t tell me I didn’t need to protect her, or that she wasn’t alone. He didn’t remind me that Feyre had more sworn shields than anyone within the camp. He didn’t tell me I was human as if that was enough explanation. He simply continued to envelop me within his eyes, smiling dazedly like I had given him a gift. “I never doubted that you care for Feyre, Nesta.” I was wholly unprepared for his words and the tenderness with which he said them. 

I swallowed, nodding curtly. I rose carefully from my chair and picked up my book, prepared to go. When I turned away, he caught my free hand. His calloused fingers enveloped mine. His hand was rough against my smooth skin from continuous training and swordplay. Scars flecked the tan skin from battles he waged and survived. He stared at my small hand almost completely swallowed by his. “Thank you,” he rasped before releasing me. I couldn’t escape quickly enough. My traitorous heart was all I could hear from the library back to my tent. 

_ Damn this male. _


	58. Prove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I woke with my head pressed face first into a pillow. What brought me fully awake was the dead weight pressing against my back. From the corner of my eye, I could see black hair laying on my shoulder. Rhysand’s arm wrapped around my waist and the full weight of his torso laying on my back. One of his legs was intertwined with mine. At some point, whether awake or not, Rhysand had wrapped himself around me like a shield covering my back. 

Despite how heavy his unsupported body was, I liked the sensation. I had woken alone so many times that I enjoyed this change. I could hear his quiet breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest. All I could smell was oranges and salty sea air. His entire hand was splayed across my naked stomach. I knew my nightshirt had ridden up from the feeling and some piece of my mind told me to feel embarrassed but I didn’t. I felt wanted. Even more so, I felt known. 

I laid there quietly for the time being. Everywhere my skin was exposed to the chill air, gooseflesh prickled which was a perfect contradiction to the heat radiating off of Rhysand. His soft breathing tickled my skin enough for the muscles in my back to tighten delightfully. My left hand, laying above my head, was covered with his. His fingers woven with mine. Laying there was an intimacy I had missed. This male reached for me in the night and held me through my dreams. Beyond carnal desire, he wished to keep me close. I placed my right hand over where his held my waist, wanting to stop time right then. 

His head shifted and he breathed in slowly. “I can hear your heart,” he said, voice low and raspy from sleep. His thumb made broad sweeping strokes over my stomach. “Am I crushing you?” 

I shook my head. “In a good way.” 

He chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to my shoulder. “You were mumbling in your sleep.” 

I pressed my face into the pillow. Even half-awake, my blush could find a way to rise. “How did I embarrass myself?” I dared, voice muffled through the pillow. I was all too aware of his presence laying ontop of me. I felt the bed shift when he leaned over and felt my skin crawl where he touched. 

“What are you worried that you said?” he smiled against the skin of my neck.  **  
**

“Something sure to mortify,” I laughed breathily. Where our fingers intertwined, I squeezed his hand. My legs were pressed so tightly I thought he’d notice them tremble. I knew he didn’t have to as the air grew heady. 

His lips pressed to my right ear. “Do you mean did you say my name over and over again?” his breath tickled my neck. I was tense beneath him. Heat was burning me from the inside out and all my core muscles were tightening painfully. He sighed. “Unfortunately not.”

I didn’t breathe out in relief. I was wound too tight for that. His hand slid from my abdomen to my hip, squeezing the flesh. As almost a reflex, I arched against him. His breath rushed against the skin at the junction of my neck and shoulder. My hand covered his and my nails dragged across his knuckles. “Rhysand,” I sighed out, my toes curled at his answering laugh. His chest rumbling echoed in my own. 

“Yes, sort of like that,” he sighed, lips tracing the lobe of my ear. His fingers slid up the curve of my waist and down in tantalizing circles. I had woken to him laying on me but now he was pressed against me and there wasn’t a spot on my body that wasn’t begging for more. My nightshirt had slid nearly up past my breasts. Even the slight friction of the cloth against my chest was driving me mad. I was sure I’d combust.

Rhysand drew in a breath, ready to say something I was positive would strike the match that finally set me aflame. 

But like cold water, it was Cassian’s voice that filled the tent. “Either Feyre comes out ready to train or I’m coming in,” he shouted from the entrance. I nearly jolted from the bed and out of my skin but Rhysand’s strong hold on my body kept me anchored against him. My head significantly clearer, I could feel Rhysand’s arousal and I felt so cheated that I was angry. 

Rhysand’s hand on my waist tightened before he released. “It would be bad,” he muttered, eyes staring at the tent ceiling. 

“What would be?” I dared. 

“Killing Cassian,” he replied and in his eyes, I could see that he was just as unhinged as I was. The satisfaction was instantaneous. He grinned at me, leaning around me to press a kiss to my lips. “Get changed,” he mumbled before rising quickly from the bed and leaving me devastated. 

I followed suit, grumbling the entire way. I threw on fresh clothes and laced up my breast plate with renewed vigor.  _ I would find a way to pay Cassian back tenfold _ , I thought tugging on the bindings. Rhysand’s laugh drew my eyes and I realized he had watched me pull on my clothes, nearly breaking them in the process. In black armor over leather, he stalked towards me until we were nearly toe to toe. I met his eyes, knowing the way he looked at me wasn’t helping the warmth in my body. “Give him hell,” he said, kissing my forehead before winnowing from the tent. 

~~~~~~~~~~

If Cassian knew why I tried to kill him during the day, he didn’t say so. Instead he threw himself into the challenge I was posing and I found I enjoyed keeping him on his toes. I could see when he shifted his balance and I knew when to strike. My mind was clear and focused on his powerful body, quickly shifting to match mine. I knew I was improving because I had twice sent him ducking a kick or punch that otherwise would have landed true. Before, he had seen them all coming and I was proud I could surprise the General. 

It was during our last spar that I had managed to surprise myself. 

He had quickly figured out that each time I came close to hitting him and missed, I grew more annoyed. So he danced in and out of my range. It forced me to remain grounded while lunging and chasing him in a circle. The entire time I kept my arms close to my chest. I refused to give him an easy opening. If I was going to struggle, I demanded that he would too. Sweat dripped down my forehead. I hardly felt it. I was going to win and I could feel it in my veins. My mind had faded into nothing. Every action was pure reflex. Time was nonexistent.

He stepped into my range and I knew the next step would be out of it. He came in guarded with his hands close to his chest, ready to swing. When he moved away, he’d tilt to the side so only his left was raised in self-defense. I counted his steps and when he began to move away, I slid with him. His left hand raised to push me back or knock me off my feet. I saw it coming and ducked beneath his swing. My next step propelled me towards his chest and my right fist met with his jaw. 

Not nearly enough anger or force to overpower him, he stumbled back with his hand raised to his jaw. I stopped breathing. I watched with wide eyes as his hand fell away, a small smear of blood. I stared at the red liquid with horror. When I looked at Cassian and expected to see much of the same, he was grinning like a fool. He held up his bloody finger like it was an award. On the underside of his jaw appeared a small cut from where I had punched him. 

“That was good,” he smiled proudly at me. The dread was swept away from me in an instant. I felt empowered when I expected to feel shame. The admiration in his eyes for my small victory was enough for me to die happy. “Of course I was going easy, not trying to kill you on the second day of training or anything,” he shrugged, walking to grab our water flasks. 

I scowled. “You were not.” I snatched my water from his hands. “Next time, I’ll be sure to hit you twice as hard. Knock some sense back into you,” I took a swig of the cool water that felt like a balm to my bruised pride. 

“If you can land another punch, I’ll admit you were right,” he challenged, tossing his water skin away and raising his fists. I threw mine along with his in acceptance, launching myself at him. 

I didn’t land another hit. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Cassian flew me back, I wasn’t as tired as I had been the day before. I was satisfied and aching but too content to fall asleep. We talked amiably about what I’d learn next and Cassian made a big deal groaning how it was unfair I could heal so fast. Apparently the next-day soreness should have made today more grueling but I had sidestepped that altogether. 

We landed outside Rhysand and I’s tent bickering over my abilities. “You’re only mad that cut is still there,” I pinched his cheek affectionately. 

He batted my hand away. “It’s only there because I look dashing when I’m rugged.” 

We entered the tent together. “More like destitute.” 

A snort too feminine to be Rhysand’s greeted us. A blonde fae was sitting at the table with Rhysand. She was tan with golden hair with matching eyes. Her lips were painted a bright red. They curled into a genuine smile that spread from ear to ear, changing her awe-inducing beauty into an endearing goofiness. “I can see you have Cassian figured out,” she laughed loudly, tipping her head back. “He sometimes confuses his barbarian attributes for handsomeness,” she shook her head, rising from the chair to come and hug me. Though we were roughly the same height, her arms enveloped me entirely. Heedless of my sweat and grime, she pressed her cheek to mine. 

I wasn’t confused. The answer came to me easily. “Mor,” I breathed out. Rhysand and Mor shared no matching features and I wondered if the fae definition of cousins was different from mine. The only thing they did share was devastating beauty. 

“I’m surprised you know me,” she released me, guiding me into a chair and leaving Cassian at the door. “Considering I was practically the  _ last  _ to meet you,” she sent a glare at Rhysand but he only rolled his eyes, smiling ruefully. 

“Yes, there was a reason for that,” Rhysand replied. 

“I met Feyre first,” Cassian grinned tauntingly, kicking his feet up onto the table. Mor shot her hand out, shoving his feet onto the floor. He nearly fell out of his chair which either made Cassian weak or Mor incredibly strong. I knew one of those couldn’t be true so I could only regard Mor with redoubled awe.

“Yes but you’re so much less pleasant to look at,” I enjoyed watching his smile flatten. 

Mor’s hand on my knee brought my attention back to her. “I’ve been waiting a very long time to see someone bring his ego down. It’s good you’re here,” she said with as much feigned sincerity as possible. 

Rhysand sighed. “Mor was here to tell us about the High Lords meeting. Mor, if you would,” he waved her forward. His impatience struck me. I’d seen this before. When we had first entered the bargain and he was waiting for Cassian to arrive.  _ Rhysand was nervous _ . 

_ Are you alright?  _ I sent out cautiously. 

His eyes softened against mine.  _ I’m sorry. This will be the first I have heard from the other High Lords since I claimed you.  _ He hadn’t yet seen their reactions.  _ Mor also told the High Lords of the letter to the Human Queens.  _

My eyes widened. Forgetting myself, I blurted, “You told them?” 

Mor and Cassian stared at me before recognition crossed their faces. Cassian sighed out, slapping a hand against his forehead. “I forgot she can do that.” 

“How did  _ you  _ forget? She practically made you do the chicken dance a week ago,” Mor cackled. 

“And I’m still sorry for that,” I turned to Cassian, eyes pleading with his. 

He stilled. “You have nothing-”

“Don’t say that. It was wrong.” 

“You did what you had to survive,” Rhysand emphasized. His fingers entwined with mine. 

“That’s what we tell ourselves but who actually believes that? Who forgives themselves?” I countered. I searched all their faces but could find nothing but resolve. They all knew what I said was true. We did things to keep ourselves moving forward and used the bandage of  _ forced choices  _ to make it manageable. But we never believed that anyway and made true martyrs of ourselves. 

“You believe it,” Mor began, “Because you know you never would have done the same had you a choice. Sometimes, all you have are a lot of fucked up, poisonous choices.” Her eyes were far off. Rhysand’s hands were still in mine. I rubbed my thumb over his. “And you have to make the least worst decision and hope for the best. But you keep trying to do what is right and make that enough,” she continued after a pause. 

“Mor,” Rhysand said. She locked watery eyes with him and swallowed, nodding for him to continue. “What did the High Lords say?”

She smiled bitterly and swiped at her eyes. Cassian rested a hand on her shoulder. “What didn’t they say?” she said, sniffling. Rhysand closed his eyes, face taught like he was going to be sick. “There was enough doubt casted that they are demanding that you present Feyre so they can confirm the presence of the mating bond.” 

They snapped open. “They  _ doubt _ it?” His hand went almost painfully tight but I squeezed back just as hard. I could scarcely breathe. “How does a letter cast doubt on a mating bond?” he practically trembled next to me. The air grew heavy and sweet with magic. The candles were no longer enough to keep the room lit up. 

Mor watched Rhysand. I could see her debate telling him anymore. Clicking her jaw, she spit out, “Tamlin alluded that you might be using Feyre to make your own motives less suspect.” 

I thought the room might explode but Rhysand didn’t lose control. He eased his hand on mine instead, sitting back in his chair with a devoid expression on his face. “I’m sorry you have to face this,” he sighed, looking more tired than I had ever seen him. All the wind taken from his sails, he was unrecognizable from the male I saw this morning. After all this time, he was still the villain in the world’s narrative. 

I moved my hand to his neck, turning him to face me. “I’m not.” He gave me the barest of smiles. His heart wasn’t there. “You told me I could share the weight,” he nodded, remembering our conversation in Vellaris. His eyes traced the contours of my face. “It’s time I faced them with you.” His eyes warmed on my face, smiling coming more steady and genuine. 

Mor and Cassian left after so I could clean up. Though I barely gave that any effort. The High Lords could suffer under my stench for all I cared. Instead I left it to Rhysand to wipe the grime off of me. He helped to unlace my leather armor and handed me spare, dry clothes to change into. I took out my braid, considering redoing it before I decided to leave it tangled. 

“I never apologized for what I did to you,” Rhysand’s voice froze me. He stood behind me. “I never said I was sorry for how I treated you Under the Mountain,” he explained. He stared intensely at the curl of my hair he twirled between his fingers. “I thought I...I never would live down the-” 

“Stop,” I whispered forcefully. 

“Feyre-” 

“No,” I faced him. “I know you expect me to be angry. To hate you for that but I don’t. I hate Amarantha,” my hands cupped his face, trembling. All I could see was her cruel smile as she handed me a dagger. Three captive fae kneeling before me. Watching in pleasure as she tore from me the innocence I’d never regain. “I know you shielded me Under the Mountain. I know to shield me you had to hurt me. I don’t hate you for it. Amarantha cannot make me hate you for what she did,” tears slipped past and I tried to keep my voice steady. 

He shuddered. “I won’t let you hate yourself then...for what she made you do.” I sighed. “I know you believe it’s different but it is not,” I shook my head. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I buried my face into his neck. “If you won’t forgive yourself, let me do it for you then,” he offered, hands rubbing my back. When he kissed me, I tasted the salt of my tears mix with him. But I found myself nodding and smiling at my mate, despite our sadness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Rhysand and I walked to Tarquin’s tent, our hands swung between us. “I knew I first loved you when you defeated the Middengard wyrm,” Rhysand said into the humid night air. I glanced over to him, watching the smile spread over his face. “You threw that bone at Amarantha like a javelin. You nearly died trying to trap it but you survived and refused to let her see you scared. Kind of reminded me of Cassian when you smirked, covered in mud.” 

“You loved me because I reminded you of Cassian?” I raised my eyebrows. At first my heart had melted but at the moment, I was perplexed. 

“Yeah,” he smiled at the memory. His happiness was contagious. I was full on my love, choking on gratitude for having the mate who stood next to me. “Because you wanted to let everyone know you wouldn’t bow,” he pulled me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I didn’t get the chance to respond. We entered the blue tent together but my happiness prevented me from feeling any nervousness. It dulled all the anxious butterflies that made my stomach threaten to upheave. His hand clasping mine kept me grounded and I knew I was safe. 

Six sets of eyes watched us enter. At the moment, I only recognized Tamlin’s gaze. Turbulence raged inside them as he took me in. I was dressed in black pants and a grey tunic with a brown leather breastplate and vambraces. My hair was untamed and swept behind me in a cascading waterfall of curls. My hand was still clutching Rhysand’s; I refused to let him escape my grasp, especially not for these High Lords. 

But my chest was proud and my chin high. 

I looked away from Tamlin, refusing to let him capture my attention. I glanced at all the other High Lords, refusing to bow my head. Rhysand hadn’t and I wouldn’t start now. 

Tarquin clearing his throat brought my eyes to him. I remembered his kind face when I had first arrived days ago. How he had thanked me for bringing his people home and I thought that seriousness didn’t suit the High Lord. “Thank you for coming,” he greeted, motioning to the single chair before Rhysand and I. 

Rhysand easily pulled back the chair and looked to me. I wanted to question but kept silent. He continued to look at me expectantly. I watched his expression as I hesitantly took the seat he offered but only saw pride and encouragement. Forced to drop his hand, I settled for his hand resting on my shoulder.  _ Possessive _ , I thought towards him in jest. His answering laugh warmed me in that unwelcoming room. 

“I’m sure Rhysand has informed you why you’re here,” Tarquin led in, glancing uncomfortably between Rhysand and I. The other High Lords also studied us doubtfully. One in particular, the oldest among them, glared at me outright. 

“Yes,” I replied. 

“Rhysand should not be present,” Tamlin hissed, eyes trained on Rhysand. 

“Mates cannot be separated,” a pale High Lord replied. The Winter Court, I believed, but I couldn’t recall the High Lord’s name. Rhysand’s hand on my shoulder tensed. 

_ I won’t leave you _ , he said, voice hard in my mind. 

_ I won’t let them make you _ , my own words matched his for forcefulness. “Rhysand will stay,” I declared, eyes meeting each of theirs and daring them to push it. 

The old male scoffed again. “Rhysand, control your mate.” 

I cocked an eyebrow. I placed the faded copper hair easily enough but none of this male’s cruelty I could recognize in my friend. Lucien must only resemble his mother. “Scared?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. Just like sparring with Cassian before, I refused all possibilities of losing. The hateful male sitting before me was another opponent and I would win.  His reply was cut short. “Feyre, your hand,” a male to my right asked. He was there the day Rhysand claimed me as his mate. Only his behavior that day let me confidently slip my hand into his, trusting him with what would happen. His hand was soft and gentle as he gripped mine. 

My stomach dropped. Magic inside me rose to the surface unbidden. I resisted it with all my being. Struggling against the pull of my magic was like floating on water. At one point, I would submerge and it was only a matter of seconds before I did. Panic seized my lungs making it difficult to breathe. My terror was making it worse. I couldn’t see anyone else in the room. Just the male sitting before me and his golden eyes, trapping me. He grunted, struggling against my efforts and I heard his voice echo. He was telling me to stop but I didn’t want to. If I did, my magic would come out and I didn’t know how to draw it back. 

Rhysand’s hand on my shoulder was the anchor that stopped me from losing myself entirely.  _ Feyre,  _ Rhysand whispered.  _ It’s alright _ . His voice took over my thoughts. My chest heaved in relief.  _ You’re safe. I have you.  _

I stopped then and let my magic surface. It rushed past me so quickly it almost felt like the Wall had come down. So bright and so painful. My skin was electric. When I opened my eyes, there was no yellow and orange sparks like raw magic. Instead, blinding white light emanated from me and when I looked to Rhysand, he shined just as brightly. I was captured by his eyes that glowed purple as he smiled down at me. Too caught up in Rhysand’s untamed happiness, I barely noticed Tamlin storm from the room. 


	59. Ignore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

“We need to assume the Spring Court has entirely fallen. The caves are compromised. We should place troops at their entrances in the Autumn Court,” Cassian pointed to a map that him and Azriel had been marking up for over an hour. Feyre was still with Mor training in some abandoned section of the woods. “I told them they needed to destroy those fucking caves,” Cassian grunted. 

I was told Feyre had been summoned before the High Lords to prove the mating bond, much to my horror. Though that faded quickly when Mor told me that it was a noninvasive and simple test, just insulting. It had only taken a couple of days for the High Lords to begin sending couriers with notes to meet again about the Human Queens. I could have laughed if it hadn’t made me nauseous. Only after all doubts of Rhysand’s motivations for his bargain with Feyre had been thoroughly vetted, did they now seek to take advantage of the situation. In the first moment, they insulted you and in the next they demanded you work for them. I hated them all. 

I kept those thoughts to myself. I couldn’t benefit from Rhysand’s position and scorn him the next. But that didn’t mean I needed to praise him as Feyre was likely to do that herself. I was fine remaining quiet, alone with my books, until I could steal away and find a new home.  _ Remake my library _ , I sighed. 

With Rhysand fielding requests from other High Lords, Elain and I were left with Cassian and Azriel. Elain was sewing Linus’s cloak as the child had torn it while picking fruit. From what I could glance at, she had begun to sew decorative emblems in the cloak as well. I flipped absentmindedly through my book but the tales had long since lost their attraction. 

“Good luck trying to get Beron to agree with that,” Azriel replied. 

“We can’t afford to lose the caves over inter-Court squabbles,” Cassian shook his head. “I’ll tell Rhys he needs to push the troops there or I’ll fly south myself. It’s no wonder Hybern didn’t try to push through the Summer Court. He doesn’t need to fight us here. He can bypass us entirely through the caves.” Cassian had highlighted the entire cave network. The southernmost inlet at the junction of the Spring and Autumn Court. Other entrances dotting the Autumn Court and then the web spread out to cover nearly the entire land till the Night Court. 

Hybern had, within a few weeks' time, conquered almost the whole southern continent of Prythian. If he continued his winning streak, he’d have access to the caves and therefore the rest of the continent. From the map Cassian had, Hybern could be in any location within a few hours, disappearing just as quickly. 

Cassian began to pace and the distraction he provided made me itch in my seat. His restlessness was infectious. “We could already be compromised here,” he said, staring at the map. 

“If we were, Hybern would have taken advantage of our ignorance by now. We already have Dark Bringer legions stationed at the cave entrances surrounding us,” Azriel sighed. “He won’t move until he has whatever he wants from the Cauldron.”

“Which we still don’t know yet,” Cassian snipped. If Azriel was night, Cassian was day. Azriel, ice and Cassian, fire. Opposite in almost every manor except deadliness. He stopped pacing finally and sheathed his dual blades in the sheath strapped to his spine. He spun to face me, hair falling from his bun in disarray. “Come on Nesta. We need to speak with Rhysand.” 

I raised my eyes to his, sighing. “I’m reading-”

“You haven’t been reading for the past twenty eight minutes,” he crossed his arms confidently over his broad chest. I debated saying I could remain with Elain and Azriel but boredom was all too likely. I set my book aside and rose, pressing out the new dress I had been gifted. It was simple and tan, appearing more like a robe that tied at my waist. Lucien had found someone at the Dawn Court who understood Elain and I had been sweating in Winter Court robes for too long. 

Elain had already sewed little flowers and leaves into hers to decorate the neckline.

Cassian grinned as I stood and I debated sitting back down to vex him. But I was past that and his restlessness had taken root inside me. I crossed my arms over my chest in a mimicking gesture, waiting for him to move. But he didn’t. He continued to watch me watch him. “Are you going to find Rhysand or is this an exercise in my patience?” I quipped. 

“Elain, would you like to go on a walk?” Azriel asked my sister pointedly. I wondered when it became okay to separate Elain and I. Somewhere along this trip, I became too trusting. Though I knew the shadowsinger’s presence alone would keep Elain safe. No one approached Azriel as casually as they did Cassian or even Rhysand.

Elain finished tying off her stitch. The needle pricked her finger and brought the digit to her mouth. Speaking around it, she looked up at Azriel, “Will you tell me about your shadows?” Cassian casted a surprised glance to Elain. 

Azriel was unresponsive. He finally nodded. Whether he meant to offer his arm at all, Elain slipped hers around his and they walked away from the room in companionable silence. Even after they had gone, I looked in their direction. Elain had always been like that, even as a young girl. Nothing was beyond her reach because she had asked nicely. Despite all my years watching her, I had never managed the same. 

“Come on, lets get outside,” Cassian said to me. The heat outside was intolerable. The only luck I had out here was that I spent so much time indoors my skin didn’t have the chance to burn. Cassian’s skin only browned further and all the flecks of scars became that much more noticeable. 

“Where is he?” I asked finally when the heat made my head light. 

“With Helion,” Cassian sighed. He seemed to catch onto why I had nothing more to say. “You’ve been using his libraries and you never came across him?” he laughed. “What? Did you hide?” he asked, laughing even harder. 

“I never saw the male,” I replied stiffly. Then, jumping on the opportunity, I added, “I’m surprised you are bringing me along since the last time you were practically feral at the idea. What is it about him? Intimidated, are you?” I enjoyed watching his mirth slide into a cunning gleam.

“You keep acting like that and I’ll leave you with him,” we had stopped walking and faced off. He squared his shoulders and with his wings towering over him, he was impossibly large compared to me. But I didn’t let it stop me. I stared back without so much a flicker of emotion. 

“That would be the goal,” I said, watching as my words penetrated that thick skin of his. His nostrils flared and eyes grew warmer by the second. Even the red siphons on his armor seemed to glow more intently. The familiar prickle of magic made my skin shiver. His shoulders tensed and I had the distinct impression he was trying not to flare his wings. 

“I’ll lead the way,” he said through gritted teeth, trudging ahead of me. My small smile went unnoticed by the brooding Illyrian. 

The Day Court’s camp was lively but not with the sound of sparring like the Night Court’s camp. Soldiers in the Day Court were packing bags and taking down some tents as we strode through. Cassian led me to a white tent with gold trim, ridiculously large in my opinion. It made me almost appreciate the sleekness and simplicity of the Night Court. 

A soldier stopped us as we approached. He let his golden spear cross the tent entrance like that stick could keep either of us back. They were all dressed in white robes that cut off at the knee. They wore knee-high leather boots and wore leather breastplates and vambraces, pauldrons decorated in a gold-like steel. Though they wore gauntlets of leather and steel that ended in sharp metal claws.  _ They must look horrific on the battlefield where all the blood and dirt is clearly visible on their white robes.  _

“High Lord Helion and High Lord Rhysand are meeting,” the soldier informed Cassian as if Cassian wasn’t wearing Night Court black. This time, Cassian’s wings did flare and I sidestepped to avoid them knocking into me. Cassian opened his mouth to reply, something venomous I was sure, when a voice beckoned us in. The soldier didn’t look the slightest perturbed, only stepping aside and raising his golden spear from our path. 

Cassian bristled but turned to me, his hand herding me through the tent flaps before him. I could tell Rhysand hadn’t been expecting me to walk in when he raised an amused eyebrow.  _ The arrogance of these males _ , I sighed internally. He smiled broadly then. Cassian followed behind but since I stopped short, he nearly rushed into me. 

There was another male sitting at the table, looking much the same as his soldiers except he wore several pieces of gold. His arms were encased by several golden armbands that were braided or hammered. A crown of gold looking like small sun rays sat atop his dreads that tumbled down his shoulders to fall nearly to his chest. But none of the precious metals he wore were any match for the glean in his eyes. “Nesta, I take it?” he asked easily. His voice was low and smooth. I disliked him instantly. 

My response was a glare. Cassian’s amusement was infinite. “Cassian, I’m sure you had a reason for dragging Nesta across the war camp?” Rhysand’s prodding voice made me curious to know exactly what the High Lord knew about Cassian and I. 

“I need to speak with you about the caves. We cannot stall on their protection,” Cassian replied, voice slipping into that commanding tone he took with his soldiers. At Rhysand’s urging, we took seats at the expansive oak table. It was covered in books. I eagerly scanned all their titles but nothing struck my interest. Though Cassian and Rhysand were speaking about the defense of the cave systems, Helion watched me with unveiled interest. 

“I’ll order a legion to make for the southern caves but if Beron denies our request, I can’t force him. We are supposed to be working together,” Rhysand replied. 

“That’s been working well for us,” Cassian shot back. Rhysand glanced to Helion before glaring at his general. 

“Beron won’t want Night Court soldiers on his lands,” Helion replied, not at all offended by their implications. He had been the reason Feyre was presented to the High Lords like a new test subject. But he remained unaffected and still too interested in my presence. Instead of heating under his inquiry, I felt cold like a piece of ice was sitting on my spine. I kept back in my chair, back straight and refused to shrink under his dominating gaze. “Ask Thesan to send some of his peregryns. They’ll get there before dawn and at least you have a chance of better guarding the caves.” 

Cassian seemed satisfied with the solution. “Fine. As long as they are protected.” 

“Who knows? He might accept. He gave permission for the refugees to sit in his lands. Maybe he is turning a new leaf,” Helion laughed at his own joke I didn’t find funny. “So you’re the sister that has been pilfering my shelves?” he asked me, skipping the topic of the war altogether. 

I looked away, ignoring his seeking eyes. “Your selection could use some improvement,” I breathed out. Cassian’s mouth popped open. Rhysand’s eyes widened until I could see the purple in them. 

I thought I might have overstepped but Helion tipped his head back and belted out a hearty laugh. “She might be the boldest human I’ve ever met.” 

“I doubt you’ve met many humans,” I said evenly. He smiled at me, growing more entranced with each passing moment. I felt no satisfaction from his attention. I knew he wanted me to hop straight into bed with him and expected me to become some sort of lover to him. I had no qualms over that. Sometimes sex was an escape and in a war, escape was apart of survival. When my eyes looked at his golden emblems, robes hanging open to reveal his chest and invite further inspection, I knew I would never share the male’s bed. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked. 

“No,” I said without hesitation. I rose and strode from the tent, not bothering to see if I was followed. 


	60. Dwell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to find Elain's voice!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

“Do you not feel the sun, then?” I asked, strolling besides Azriel in tall grass. I had gained new freckles since I spent so much time walking about the camp. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Because you’re constantly in the shade,” speaking with Azriel was rather easy. At first, I found it difficult to get past the constant assortment of knives and flecks of blood. Now I barely noticed them. Flowers still grew in the patches of grasses between the tents and if that could happen, then the camp couldn’t be that bad. 

I had learned Azriel wouldn’t speak unless I spoke directly to him. But even when we walked in silence, it was companionable. I thought he would make an excellent gardening partner. I could trust he would leave me to my thoughts when I wanted. 

He chuckled softly. “They aren’t shadows in the literal sense.” 

“But you said they aren’t magic,” I shot back, furrowing my brow in confusion. He had walked me through all the Illyrian abilities, starting from the wings to the siphons and finally to him being a shadowsinger. What I appreciated was he explained everything thoroughly, never assuming I knew more on the topic. 

Even more so, I appreciated his distraction from my own aches. 

“They aren’t magic because they are me,” he said, sounding perplexed. “They are an extension of myself but less corporeal. Think of them like your hands, they can feel and do things for me.” When he motioned, they rose to surround him. Even where our arms linked, they washed over my arm in what appeared to be a tentative greeting. Up close, they looked like a fog that settled in a valley like a soft blanket but they were dark enough to obscure. 

“What can they do?” I asked, quietly studying them. 

He remained quiet until I looked up at him. “They were never meant for pleasant aims,” his eyes had saddened incrementally. The hazel had faded to a dull brown like muddy water. 

“If they are like hands, doesn’t that imply they can do both pleasant and unpleasant acts?” I questioned seriously, staring hard at him. We had stopped walking to stare down at our interlocked arms, where his shadows wafted over our arms. 

He considered me for a moment but never quite lost that sad air. “I guess that could be true.” 

“You ought to try then,” I took the small victory and smiled, tugging him along. “Now, you’ll have to tell me what its like to fly. Does your back get sore?” I fired off question after question, finally getting somewhere with all the curiosities I had. I wanted to ask more than anything for him to show me what his siphons could do but thought there was a boundary there. I was sure some questions would seem too personal and I wanted to respect that delicate balance we had worked out. He never mentioned engagements or human life spans and I kept my eagerness in check. 

Though I knew I had an intense desire to learn about the fae and Illyrians alike, Azriel was just as interested in learning about humans. “What was your home like?” he asked. 

I continued to describe how it was built and what it looked like when we left. “I’ve spent more time outside the house than in if we are being honest,” I smiled fondly at the garden I had painstakingly cultivated. My hope was that it hadn’t been outright burned down but instead left to its own devices. At least that way I could pretend a part of it still lived. “Nesta had more of a hand on the interior design.” 

“How did you three come to design your own house?” he asked, unknowingly going to where my heart still ached. 

“It was…” I floundered to find the right words. We received that house as compensation. Tamlin had glamoured us and supported our wealthy way of living. I had never recovered all my memories after the glamour was removed but the shame was just as fresh. Feyre had been taken from us and I had allowed those memories to be exchanged for lies. Nesta had remained unaffected by the glamour and I always thought that if I had been a better sister, I would have retained mine.  _ How could I forget the kidnapping of my younger sister?  _ “It was the price for Feyre,” I finished, sighing out. Azriel stiffened incrementally under my arm. “When...when Tamlin took Feyre, he glamoured my family and I and made it so Feyre was with a sick aunt. He continued to support us even after...after what happened Under the Mountain,” I rushed to explain. 

Azriel kept his gaze straight ahead but I could see him sorting through the information with a discerning eye. “I’d never known that story,” he said. 

“I don’t think Tamlin would like if many people knew that story,” I reasoned. 

“You’re right about that,” Azriel replied, voice oddly flat and devoid of all emotion. Each step we took after, his other hand rested on my arm as if to keep me firmly in place. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we walked back to the tent, Lucien had reappeared from visiting with the refugees. The sight sent my heart skipping and butterflies filling my stomach. I always became flustered with Lucien and had no way to stop it. The best I could do was focus on breathing and hope I didn’t appear foolish. 

I frowned when I saw he had a few packs sitting at his booted feet. “There you both are,” he smiled as we trudged up the hill. “I should have known you went on a walk.” 

“It was Azriel’s fault,” I quipped. Azriel glanced to me once, twice before he realized it really had been me that spoke. “He was dreadfully slow,” I smiled at his dismay, one of the first expressions I managed to wrestle from the shadowsinger. 

“I can believe that,” Lucien added, also finding enjoyment at how Azriel glanced between us like we were completely different people. The small, combined conspiracy to elicit a response from Azriel felt good. But Lucien sobered when he approached us. I found I didn’t like the pained look he gave me, so raw and wounded. “The refugees will be leaving tonight. We will be leaving with them.” 

“But Nesta said we weren’t leaving,” I tightened my grip on Azriel’s arm like I could use the Illyrian like an anchor. 

“Not to the Night Court. We’ll be close just not by the front. It isn’t safe here for all the people, especially so close to the war front. If Hybern attacks, it wouldn’t be good,” he sighed out, raking a hand through his hair. I knew our time in the war camp was finite. In the beginning, I looked forward to leaving. I wanted to be somewhere peaceful so I wouldn’t succumb to the horror of war. But I realized that the camp thrived off the little beauty it did have, like the shrub in our tent, and that staying was the best service I could do: distraction and escape. 

If I left with the refugees, there was no guarantee this place would keep it’s flowers. War had the tendency to consume all that was beautiful. Though I couldn’t ignore my desire to stay with the refugees. Meeting with Thales and Linus in the day and picking fruit had become a custom for me. I liked the stories they told around their campfires at night. I nodded firmly, suppressing any frown I had waiting. “Alright but you’ll have to find someone to take care of my plant while I am gone,” I sighed. 

Lucien smiled then. “I think that can be arranged.” He provided me with a heavy cloak that was fur lined. I stared at the fine piece like it was gold. It was valuable but I didn’t know what to do with it. “It is colder in the Autumn Court,” he explained. “Lady Viviane said these would keep you and Nesta warm.” 

“How far away is the Autumn Court?” I asked, brows furrowed. 

“Two days ride by horse, faster if you have wings,” Lucien glanced to Azriel. “With the large group, we’ll probably take three days.”

“We?” I asked, watching his mouth twitch. He waved Azriel and I into our tent and that prickle of magic told me they had worked to make our conversation private. Along with cloaks, new boots sat at the foot of our beds. Embarrassingly, new stockings were also included. I would have blushed a little if my mind wasn’t already encompassed by the new revelations. 

“Morrigan and I will be accompanying you and Nesta,” I released a breath I had subconsciously beene holding. “Though no one is to know that you and Nesta have left. We are going to pretend you remain in the war camp, close to Feyre. No one would suspect any different,” he explained, sitting on Nesta’s bed. 

“This doesn’t mean you can’t return,” Azriel assured, sitting on the ground by the bush. It had grown somewhat so he kept his wings carefully aimed away from it. I appreciated the small gesture immensely. “It keeps you and Nesta safe and when you want, you can come back to visit to make sure we haven’t killed the plant,” he supplied warmly. 

“I’d be disappointed to say the least,” I pursed my lips. “Very well,” I agreed, wondering how Nesta had taken the news. Azriel and Lucien left me to change into the warmer clothes. I hadn’t worn stockings in sometime. With so many days of use, I was surprised I still had a corset to wear. Though I hadn’t asked her, I was positive Nesta had completely forgoed hers.

The stockings they gave me were a pristine white and I instantly felt a pang of guilt for using my dirty hands to roll them up my legs. They tied at my thighs and I was pleasantly surprised to find they didn’t itch like the ones we wore at home. I slipped on an apron-like cover and tied it behind my waist. I left the cloak folded as the Summer Court was still humid and I wouldn’t ruin it by sweating. My boots laced nearly half-way up my calf and were made of a far sturdier leather than I’d ever seen. 

When I emerged, Lucien had already gotten our horses. “We leave so soon?” I asked. I thought maybe I could have one more meal with the court. 

He gave me a regretful nod. “We should go before the woods get too dark.” He helped me up onto my horse. Once I was seated, he took the reins to his horse and Azriel led Nesta’s. We walked down the hill to meet with the refugees. I had walked through the camp so many times and yet this one walk, I found difficult to stand. I wanted to stay even though I knew it was foolish to want to do so. I could only be a burden here but I still wanted to be with them all, selfishly. 

Though an even darker part of myself was glad that Lucien would stay by my side. I was relieved I wouldn’t have to watch him go into battle. If I had to spend the days worrying over what became of my friends, I was glad that I wouldn’t have to do the same with Lucien. His presence had become a constant in my life and I resisted the idea of change. 


	61. Depart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Cassian and Rhysand had readily caught up to me when I left the tent, easily chatting about how best to approach Thesan about their ideas for his army. They flanked either side of me and I purposefully held my back as straight as possible but I was still shorter than either irritating males. Cassian’s wings exaggerated the distance even more so and as we walked, they swallowed my shadow up with their own.

Azriel found us as we approached the tents. I hoped he had some information that would distract Cassian and Rhysand for me to slip away. The day had proved too interesting and I had a headache; I remembered the book I left on my bed and felt grateful I had a private retreat waiting for me. I never got that far. Azriel stopped in front of us all, blocking me too. “The refugees are moving tonight. Mor is returning now with Feyre to change.” Azriel said. The shadowsinger never spoke to me directly so I stared back at him wordlessly. 

“I never agreed to leave the camp,” I shot back. I wanted to stay with Feyre. 

“The war camp is going to become more dangerous,” Rhysand provided, only worsening my mood. I raised a brow. “It would help Feyre if she knew you were somewhere safe,” he added. I closed my eyes, sighing. 

I was aware that my humanness left me particularly vulnerable. That was where Feyre and I radically differed. When she walked into the woods that day, she believed that prior experience hunting, or even with archery, wasn’t necessary if she had enough stubborn will. Her damned assurance that everything would work out if she kept persevering was what made her walk into that fae Queen’s court and accept a woefully unfair bargain. She had no perspective on her own fragile humanity and it was what killed her ultimately. I was all too aware of how human Elain and I were in this camp full of fae; despite knowing this, I didn’t care. Not for my own safety at least. 

So when Rhysand told me I would be in danger, I wanted to roll my eyes. But I knew that Feyre would risk herself for Elain and I if she thought it would keep us safe. My humanity was not only my weakness but Feyre’s as well and I was a danger to her life if I remained. 

“Lucien also brought you warmer clothes, Nesta,” Azriel added softly. Cassian remained oddly quiet but I could feel his gaze on my back. His eyes bored into me, quietly asking me to say the words and he would personally fly me to the Night Court. 

“Fine,” I sighed, sidestepping the male and slipping into my tent. I wished I could have thrown myself down onto my bed, sleep and wake when my head stopped pounding. This day was full of too much adventure and I was apprehensive of the journey, suddenly wishing for the routine I had made for myself. I had demanded to stay close to Feyre and this was the only option. 

Lucien had apparently concerned himself with keeping Elain and I warm as all the clothes laid out were made of fine and heavy material. The woolen cloak was grey with black fur trim so fine I had never seen anything quite like it. Even the stockings were made from a white fabric I didn’t recognize. The boots must have been new as tying the laces tight was hard from how stiff the leather was. I left them in a messy knot when I grew too frustrated to try any more. I left my cloak slung over my arm and carried my books and pack outside. 

When I stepped out of the tent, Feyre and Morrigan had returned. Feyre looked a mess and Morrigan only slightly improved, having time to change clothes. My youngest sister immediately came up to me and took my pack for me. “You won’t be too far,” she said. 

I handed her the three tomes I had kept in my tent. “I doubt I could take these with me,” I glanced at their carefully bound covers regretfully. I hadn’t finished a single one; I had been too distracted. My eyes looked to where Cassian stood but his back was to me, his mind focused on a quiet conversation between Rhysand and Azriel. 

“I’ll be sure they find their way to the library,” Feyre nodded dutifully. She didn't move so I began to, walking in the direction of where the refugees had been housed. With her much longer legs, she kept stride just fine. “You could still return to the Night Court. They have libraries there too.” 

“I’m not-” 

“I know,” though she said the words in a saddened tone, I could see her eyes were light. She was proud. “Mor and Lucien are going with you and since my training is far from over, I’ll visit as will everyone else,” she provided. Elain was easy to recognize on top of her horse, even at the center of the group. She seemed to attract light like she was already one of the fae. Unsurprisingly, Lucien stood at the foot of her horse and they were speaking quietly. 

“You act as if you aren’t going to see me again,” my eyes narrowed. 

Though she was fae, she hadn’t changed much. She still bit her lip. “I don’t know when.”

Like Elain, Feyre was unguarded with her emotions and very much unlike Elain, Feyre’s heart was twice as fortified. For the moment, I saw my youngest sister like she was a kid. Her cheeks were round and freckled and blue eyes so bright and wide they were painful. I wanted to pull her onto my horse and tell the rest of the world to throw itself off a ledge. Why my sisters insisted on living a dangerous life, I would never understand. “If you stay alive, it’ll be enough,” I whispered instead. 

Feyre’s hand slipped into mine. “I can do that. I’m harder to kill than I look,” she joked and my face remained flat. “Bad joke,” she shrugged. Though I could tell she didn’t feel guilty in the least. 

I climbed into my horse’s saddle and let all the words remain unspoken. Feyre stepped back with my books held close to her chest and into the arms of her mate. They looked nice together. Even when Morrigan approached them, asking for assistance and taking the group away towards the front of the parade, I admitted quietly that they suited each other well. 

Cassian let the others help Morrigan, watching them disappear. He approached me quietly with his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked warm in the setting sun. A palette of soft browns like fresh soil and depthless blacks. His hair was fully unbound and hung messily about his head. In his hands, he had something wrapped up in a blue cloth. I momentarily was very concerned where a male like him found fine blue cloth in a war camp. 

“You can say the words, Nesta,” for the first time, Cassian was looking up at me. His eyes were hard with intent. How he leaned towards me, head tipped upwards with his throat exposed, was akin to a male begging. Or praying. “You can go to the Night Court with Elain. Rhysand would take you both there in a second. Even if he wouldn’t, I’d take you there myself.” I didn’t doubt the sincerity of his statement. 

“I won’t go,” I said though I could find no steel in my voice. All of my will had been worn away and if he continued to ask like that, I’d finally agree. Somehow he had smoothed over all my sharp edges like stones polished in rivers. 

Lucien, up ahead, had left Elain’s side to seat his own horse. I pushed my boots into the stirrups and straightened in my saddle, waiting for the orders to start moving. I felt a tug on my foot. I glanced down to see Cassian holding my loosely knotted boots like he’d never considered taking his own off. His face was a mixture of sarcasm and shock. “How can I trust you to keep yourself safe if you can’t even lace your own boots right?” he chuckled, taking up the task for himself. About to protest, I was stopped by the delicacy the male displayed when he pushed the edge of my dress away to reveal my leather boot. Carefully picking up my heel and holding it steady in the palm of his large hand. My stocking was partially visible. His eyes were wholly focused on the task. His one hand held my heel and the other took to slowly tugging and lacing up my shoe. When he set my foot down, he only went around my horse to check my other boot. He made a  _ tsking  _ sound but didn’t look the slightest bit disapproving, patiently relacing my shoe so it fit well. 

“You’ll be safe?” he asked me, eyes glancing to see my expression in the fading light. 

“As safe as you,” I replied easily. His eyes narrowed; he wasn’t too satisfied with that response. Though he didn’t get the chance to retort. We were called to march and he was forced to step back and watch me disappear into the treeline. 


	62. Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the part where I say MA for mature? 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Watching my sisters depart had awoken something in me I felt uncomfortable facing. It was reminiscent of the time not so long ago. The first of many goodbyes between us three. When Tamlin had taken me to the Spring Court and later again, when I had left of my own volition. Even after Under the Mountain, they had watched me disappear into the woods and beyond the Wall to the Spring Court often. I had never appreciated how difficult it was to be the person who remained. 

When the last of the humans and Summer Court fae had long since vanished into the shadows of the canopy, exhaustion washed over me. I already was thinking about when the next time I would see them. Probably when I went to train with Mor or if Lucien was going to train besides Azriel or Cassian. Not for another week at the least.

Rhysand’s arm around my waist tightened. He pressed his forehead to mine. “They’ll be safe.” 

“Buried in the Autumn Court, I know that but I just wish we could all...be,” I said lamely. We didn’t have to do anything but sit around a table and talk like we had and I’d be content for eternity.  _ I wouldn’t have eternity with them _ , my mind reminded me. Fae wars could last centuries. Nesta and Elain had decades. 

“This will be over,” Rhysand assured me. “We will end it together.”

Somber moods had fallen over the entire court as both Azriel and Cassian retired to their tents. Rhysand and I retreated into ours. My head rested on his armored shoulder as we walked and I couldn’t find it within myself to care in the slightest. Rhysand had obviously been anticipating me returning from training sooner as he had a bath waited but the water had cooled. “I won’t judge you if you want to sleep, smelly as you are,” he laughed when we saw what still sat in the center of the tent. 

“You’re one to speak,” I rolled my eyes. I knelt at the foot of the tub and slipped my hand into the cool water. “Lucien told me he could heat up the water without producing a flame,” I said in response to Rhysand’s imploring look. Sauntering over, he knelt besides me to watch as I attempted to summon the flames. 

“If you’re concentrating that hard, you’re doing it wrong,” he whispered to me when I sat in silence for a couple of minutes to no change. “You speak to my mind easily. This should be no different.” 

“But what if that’s because of the mating bond?” I said, my cheeks becoming rosy. 

“You froze yourself to the ground. You heal yourself unknowingly,” he explained, leaning one elbow onto the tub and watching me contentedly. I tried not to think of how intently he watched me. “You can summon the magic of each court. You just haven’t found their triggers just yet. What did ice feel like?” 

“Panic,” I winced. 

“You said you used the wind to cover your tracks when you were escaping Hybern. How did that feel?”

“Also panic,” I admitted. 

He laughed. “Self-preservation being highly tied to your ability to call magic, I see.” 

“Then send Cassian in and I’ll defend for all I’m worth,” I easily replied. 

“Let's try to use your powers without tying them to life or death situations,” he shook his head. “Imagine the fire already in your hands.” I watched Rhysand as he described it, eyes far off. “Magic is energy and you’re a vessel for it. You can summon it just like you can any emotion. When you think of fearful experiences, your heart races. Sad thoughts can bring tears to your eyes. When you think of your magic, let your body pull on it as well,” he coaxed softly, voice barely above a whisper. 

I thought of the water warming but that was too difficult to envision. I picked a different tactic. I thought of Rhysand and I waking in bed the other morning. How delightfully comfortable that had been. My skin had felt warm to the touch wherever we met. Sweat had beaded my forehead. My muscles ached from the rising heat. Excitement had wrung my nerves in a way that sowed more happiness and shunned all anxieties. My joy was untameable. 

“Feyre,” Rhysand almost purred into my ear. My eyes fluttered open. The water was steaming, small bubbles rising to disrupt the surface. The room was humid and my hair hung damply on my face. My skin was hot to the point of pain. I tore my hand from the water, looking at the pink skin. “You really wanted that bath?” he studied the water, eagerness written all over his face. He lowered a hand to the water, testing the temperature. When he pulled back too, his eyes were rounded in admiration. 

I swallowed nervously, mouth too dry to formulate a clever response. “I guess,” I agreed, glancing at the water. The steam, at least, gave me a reason for being flushed. The small tent was blanketed in the cloudy mist, dampening my clothes. I curiously dipped my finger into the water and I could hardly stand the heat. I had nearly boiled the entire bath. 

“Feyre,” Rhysand’s voice caught my attention. 

“Hm?”

“Your mental walls were down,” he admitted, having the decency to look sheepish. Though at my jolt, his smile transformed into something positively wolfish. 

I sat back on my heels, facing him. My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to formulate the words. “Why...you...y..you should have told me,” I pursed my lips but had a hard time keeping my guilty smile from seeping through. Mortification was complete and I swore even my ears reddened to the color of cherries. “At...at least stopped me from-”

His brows furrowed, face near to mine. One arm braced on the rim of the bathtub while the other sat on the ground, a finger’s width from my hip. “Why would I stop you from thinking thoughts you obviously enjoyed? That had such charming results,” though the steaming bath water sat to my left, Rhysand gestured to me. Our noses almost touched and our eyes were locked. Every hair on my body was raised with the knowledge of his nearness. “Why would I stop you from using your magic? When it brings you joy? When I love watching you explore your own power?” I swallowed and his eyes traced the movement. 

“Don’t you miss it though?” I ventured. 

“Miss it?” 

“Your magic? The piece I have?” 

“It’s safe where it is,” his fingers traced the part of my armor where my heart rested, eyes half-lidded. “I would give you more of my power if I could, knowing you’d have it,” he assured, voice raw and honest. 

I lifted my chin, pressing my lips into his. Enjoying how they moved softly over mine to embrace me. His hand came to cup my chin and his tongue pressed into my mouth, deepening the kiss. I wasn’t satisfied with the tenderness. Magic still crackled in my veins like embers in a firepit and it only took a little kindling to restart the blaze. I lifted onto my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck. His other arm pressed me against his hard body but our armor got in the way, becoming a nuisance. 

A breathless moan escaped me and broke his resolve. His deft fingers pulled hard at the ties of my armor. If I was undressing, he was coming with. Unfamiliar with his armor, I hesitantly took to fumbling with the latch. “ _ Fuck that _ ,” he mumbled, voice belonging to a half-starved male. He raised a hand to his shoulders, an audible  _ snap  _ echoed into the tent and his breastplate fell to the floor. My hands explored the skin through his tunic and in one hard motion, I ripped the shirt away. I had forgotten about his vambraces which remained on, keeping the sleeves of his shirt stuck but he had decided on ignoring their presence. 

Rhysand was more focused on pulling my shirt over my head and tearing the bindings I used for my breasts. Even in the steam of the room, my skin prickled at the air and my nipples tightened. I didn’t care about being bare before him. My mind was leagues ahead. Intent on exploring the black tattoos that covered his shoulders. I kissed my way across his broad shoulders. His lips found my neck and sucked at the skin there. Nibbling my ear lobe.

Rhysand’s body was heavier than mine and with a few tugs on my knees, he tipped me backwards onto the grassy floor. His chest covering mine, nestling between my thighs. My legs wound around his waist, made to fit him. The pressure of his hips against mine was delightful and torturous. One hand was kneading the flesh of my ass and the other cupped my breast, thumb circling the nipple. Though the moment his lips found my breast, I clamped down on an awfully loud moan. “You are divine,” he mumbled against my skin, kissing his way to my stomach. “I’d hear your moans...especially if they're my name,” he smiled, warm breath coasting over my skin. Though his eyes were taunting me, smile turning devious. 

“You’re arrogant,” I whispered breathlessly, chest heaving. “Not a word from my lips,” I promised, closing my eyes. I laid my head into the grass, sure heaven had found a place in this world. In this tent. 

They snapped open when his hands went to my boots, pulling them off in hard yanks. Resolve had hardened his body. He knelt between my legs, focused intently on his task of undressing me properly. He slid my pants down from my hips and took my undergarments with them, delicate so he didn't accidentally hurt me. 

The room had slipped from steamy to intoxicating. When he finished, I was completely bare before the male. His eyes were soft, taking me in and committing my form to memory. I went to rise, maybe to cover myself and maybe to do the same to him, but his hand pressed onto my hip, staying me. His eyes locked with mine. His thumb rubbed small circles into my waist. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his forearms between my legs. I was panting, completely drawn in by him. With infinite care, he drew one hand down my knee to my inner thigh. Kneading the flesh there before pushing the limb aside until I was fully exposed before him. Breathing was difficult. I couldn't focus, couldn't _think_ past the sensation of him. Pressing open mouthed kisses to my thigh, nearing my core with every kiss, he said, “I’m going to taste you until you fall unconscious,” my mouth popped open as the only indication I heard him at all. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you to bed,” he promised. 

I nodded, dazedly, barely comprehending. Half-lidded and drunk on pleasure.

His eyes were bright like lightning, peering up at me from between my legs. The grin on his mouth was barely containable as he watched me accept. I had no more time to react before his tongue dipped into me. Sense and reason were lost to me. Pulled into the strokes of his mouth against that sensitive bundle of nerves until I panted to each of his movements. My legs tightened and relaxed painfully, trembling at the promise of what he brought, what he could ellicit from my body. His hands held my waist secure against him, pinning my legs open as they strained around him. My back arched, lifting off the cool grass from the waves of pleasure. Sweat dripped off my body. My one hand found his hair, tugging softly for an anchor that would hold me to the ground. I bit my wrist, trying to contain my cries but it was all in vain. I was lost the moment we began.


	63. Commit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

We rode for most of the night. Traveling in the night was safer. It would be least expected and when we posted guards for the day, we would know who was surrounding us for leagues in the light of day. The air cooled and became crisp, smelling of rain and leaves. The canopy above us turned into a wood of maple and oaks. The Summer Court had manaca, stinking toe and balsa trees; each tree had slender trunks and usually grew taller when in the forests. As a result, the leaves above acted like blankets so all that covered the ground were the most invasive brush line vines and ferns. If the path wasn’t cleared in the Summer Court, navigation for foreigners was nearly impossible in the dense forest. 

The Autumn Court was much different. Most of the wildlife grew larger or kept low to the ground. The trees were several shoulder widths in diameter and soared into the sky, scaling them nearly impossible. All the brush, like packs of sandra, were low to the ground or leafless in the fall climate. Of course, most of the ground coverage was owed to fallen leaves. 

The Seasonal Courts were able to resist the natural course of the seasons much easier than the Solar Courts. The Seasonal High Lords magic kept the land near constant though the seasons did have some impact. As winter was nearly upon us, the Autumn Court would be much colder, no humid days and breezy nights. Which was why I had ensured Nesta and Elain had the clothes they did. I couldn’t rely on my own court to give them truly appropriate attire so I went to the next best source: the Winter Court. All the Winter Court’s clothing would be waterproof and warm which covered their more basic human needs. 

The Summer and Spring Court fae had their natural magic to keep them comfortable but the humans, stubborn as usual, refused to touch fae clothing. Not they minded eating some fae food, just resisted everything else. 

Each court was asked to provide a fae to help with the citizens and give supplies too. Only the Summer, Winter and Night Court had complied with both orders. The Spring, Day and Dawn Courts had given food stores and clothing. My father claimed that hosting the refugees would be the Autumn Court’s contribution. Rhysand had appointed me to move the citizens with Mor, Tarquin had yielded Cresseida and a stoically silent female appeared to represent Kallias’s side. 

With the people not from her own Court, Cresseida was as delicate as a sledgehammer. The Winter Court fae was so silent, I hadn’t even learned her name until we were about to march: Gilah. It left Mor and I to act between the different groups that had evolved. The Summer and Spring Court fae would intermingle to a degree but kept entirely separate from the human host. Mostly due to Lord Nolan’s presence. That damnable man, Graysen Nolan, had become somewhat of the human’s leader with his even more disagreeable father. It seemed now that he had scorned Elain’s hand in marriage, he thought he needed to act in opposition to her in all other aspects of life as well. At first, he had slipped into the background and I thought he’d one day disappear from my mind altogether. But once the conversations over moving the refugees began, he reappeared like a disease.

Mor and I had made it clear that all the refugees would need to move to safer land, to keep them far from the war front. All peoples had silently agreed with the notion. Once we began speaking of resources, though, Lord Nolan had become a loud voice for the humans. Insisting the humans needed more food, clothing and shelter. He wasn’t wrong. Many of the other fae, especially the fae with magic, didn’t recognize how fragile human life was. They almost  _ always _ required something whether it was more food, warmth or sleep in a constant cycle of support. Fae did as well but could generally last a couple of days before significant impacts were felt; humans were to be nurtured daily. 

Though Lord Nolan and his son demanded that the resources they be given were of the human source. After declaring that they should keep as separate from the fae as possible, we had all sat quietly around the table. I sat still, trying to rationalize what they said. Morrigan, who had sat quietly besides me up until then, had laughed so loudly it reverberated off the tent walls. Tears had come to her eyes as well. If that hadn’t been the end of all civilized conversation, her next comment was, “We will provide you with the resources you need to survive. But we can’t risk an entire troop of soldiers to clothes shop for you,” her voice had started out understanding and soft but all knives were out by the end. 

My subsequent headache was well worth their abhorrent expressions.

But we packed the fae clothing and food anyway into carts, toting it at the end of our long march. I figured that the humans wouldn’t care where the resources came from after one night in the Autumn Court. Rhysand had asked me if I had any relation to the Night Court. 

Though Lord Nolan and the rest of his family insisted on riding at the head of the train with Cresseida, Gilah, and I. I had immediately placed Nesta and Elain in the center of the train, far from Graysen and his unpleasant relations, and asked Morrigan to guard them. I resisted the urge to look back at them every moment we rode. I wanted to guard them myself but ever since Morrigan had publicly snubbed the Nolan Clan, she’d been promptly added to their blacklist. If we were to travel without issue, I would need to become the emissary this time. 

Though I found focusing impossible. All thoughts were directed to keeping Nesta and Elain safe. Feyre entrusted me once again with her sister's safety. Though this time, significant guilt weighed on my shoulders. I hadn’t told Feyre how I felt for Elain. I reasoned myself out of admitting this to my closest friend. 

I had nothing to offer. I had no title except that of a disowned and unwanted son. I held no wealth except for my current possessions. My shame was nearly complete with how I had failed Jesminda. In truth though, I was rootless. I had been twice banished from two separate Courts and I barely would count myself a member of Rhysand’s Court. 

I thought of the woman I had encountered in the garden. With the straw sun hat, a blue ribbon tied underneath her chin. Her choice of soft pink dresses that were smudged with soil from kneeling over her garden, showcasing her determination. The patience it had taken to cultivate her plants. The skill for guiding the honeysuckle through the arbor so it wove around the wooden slats. How her gazebo was scuffed from how well-used it was while she sat in appreciation of its beauty. But above all else, I thought of the unfaltering love for everything she came across; every potted plant she had was equally adored whether they flowered or grew sufficiently. 

Elain was entitled to more than a rogue male. 

If I ever claimed to love her at all, then the best I could do for her was to see her grow somewhere fitting of her nature. But while I was with her, I’d drink in every second. 

So when we stopped at Dawn, I pulled my horse’s reins hard to the left and abandoned the front of the procession. I had no more to say to my unwitting allies. I rode down the line, drawing the eyes of several fae with the gleam of my copper hair, shining in the sunlight. It was long enough that it looked like a sheet of metal. When we entered the Autumn Court, I’d be indiscernible from the surrounding foliage.

A part of me was still in shock that I was returning to my home land. My father knew I had been selected to lead this journey and had not objected. I believed that had more to do with Rhysand’s appointment of me than any warm feelings my father had towards me. I refused to waste the time. I could almost smell the cardamon of my mother and the freshly roasted apples after harvest. There were so many things I had wanted to see but now all I could think of was what I wanted to show Elain.

I’d start with the black walnut trees that appeared nowhere else in the entirety of Prythian. If we were further south, I would have brought her to the Opal Lakes which are a series of lakes, joined by waterfalls. Oddly, the cold halls of my home popped into my mind. Pristine and without any joy, my home sat in the hills of the eastern woods. They held no place in my heart now but there was a deep yearning inside me that wanted Elain to see every piece of my history. I strove for her acceptance, to see me as something not entirely unloveable. 

And an equally wretched piece of me wanted to hide everything grisly, starting with the badge of disgrace that had taken my left eye. 

Morrigan had taken one look at my approaching form and already rode past me, to take my place. Though I knew she’d probably never be able to see me without some distrust, I trusted her entirely. She spoke the truth and accepted it’s consequences without falter.

Elain and Nesta had already nestled beneath a maple together, having donned their clothes to ward off the chill. Both of them looked miserable in the dawn. Tired and miserable. I didn’t intrude on their commiseration of leaving the war camps and their sister. Instead, I saw that all three of our horses were properly fed and watered. As I brushed the horses down, I kept my ears keen for any foreign motion.

When I tied the horses near their sleeping forms, I realized Elain hadn’t so easily drifted off. Which was a surprise given her trusting nature. But her doe-like eyes were awake and watching me. I froze as if caught. Embarrassment crept up my neck though its source was unknown to me. My throat closed. I wanted to speak. To say something that would help me identify where her thoughts were but all my thoughts fled me. Stupidly, all I could think to say was  _ do you see me?  _ I barely dared to breathe lest it disrupt the undivided attention she paid me. 

She watched me with an unreadable look in her eyes, face uncharacteristically devoid of expression. Only her brown eyes were windows to the keenness of her mind. The moment passed quickly, time having caught up. She nodded as if satisfied with whatever she found. Her lashes fell closed and she rested her head on Nesta’s shoulder to sleep, content with my presence. 

I could hear her heart as it slowed, signifying her restful sleep. Even then, I didn’t move. I studied her in the dawn, committing her to memory. 


	64. Resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

I felt the air shift the moment we left the Summer Court. The air no longer smelled like lazy afternoons spent on porches, sweet and humid. I pulled my cloak shut, fastening the buttons and wished I had tea and a book. I was pitifully reminiscent of the beautiful nook I had put in, fitted with cushions and right under a large glass pane window in my library. With a fire going, I could read until the sun set and then I’d have to take a break to grab a candle to read until dawn. 

All this thinking of the past got me nowhere but I found some memories were difficult to ignore. I itched to do something. To visit Helion’s library even if it meant possibly speaking to the High Lord. Or to stay eternally in that moment when Morrigan and I had come across Cassian training. His sunbathed skin was luminescent from the sweat and even covered in grime, his armor gleaned. His swords were arcs of light. Cassian’s siphons, pulsating with red light, were like windows to his beating heart. How alive he had been inside the sparring ring, full of savvy and vigor. He commanded that arena without title but skill. 

Every day I thought about that moment. At first, I thought because I found him attractive but usually I could easily purge myself of those distractions. It came to me in the days following,  _ I had never felt as alive as the way Cassian merely looked that day _ . 

Since I was a little girl, I resisted the crowd. I preferred to be alone. It kept me from the pain of comparison. Other girls seemed fascinated by dresses, dancing, boys, horse riding, hawking or whatever interest they found. I knew I was different when the magic of life never appeared to me. I tried all those hobbies and found no enjoyment. My initial reaction was to scorn every other woman and their lives. Even after my mother passed, my father lost his fortune and we no longer could associate with the same crowds. Everyone and everything else was silly and ridiculous, not worth pursuing. Except Elain. I couldn’t deride her love for all life. 

My hatred gave me no inner satisfaction, only misery. Especially when Feyre was stolen by Tamlin, I thought I had wasted my time deriding her. When she had returned, I reliquished my streak of ridicule. It had taken too much energy that I didn’t possess. Instead, I took to fiercely protecting the small life I had because it offered me the small comfort I did have.  I found isolating myself to my books to be the only part of my day that I did not have to feel that emptiness. Throughout my life, reading was my sojourn. The hollowness didn’t exist as I lived through my characters. 

I should have known that the time spent with Elain the home we shaped was not meant to last. When Lucien traveled with us, I resented the male. I wanted to go home and that fool insisted on bringing us far from it. And my dislike deepened when we arrived in the Night Court.  I hated the constant company. All of them were so vibrant it physically hurt. But the mornings where I’d break my fast with Rhysand’s inner circle had wormed its way into my comfort zone. Chewing on sweetened fruit while they bickered. I sort of liked sitting with them. I could almost pretend I belonged too. 

Cassian’s insistence on standing in my presence had been a nuisance. Any chance at solace was stolen by the irritating male. Even at breakfast with them, he would draw me in. I’d catch Cassian’s eyes on me and he wouldn’t look away. His steady gaze declared he’d been watching me intently and wouldn’t be made to apologize for it.  _ Am I not supposed to look at you when your presence begs to be studied? _ I could hear him say. 

Moments like that and I felt that yearning rise in me to be apart instead of without. 

I was a fool. As we rode further from the war camp, I grew more hollow by the moment. I had no one else to blame but myself. I had looked to Morrigan for company but she wasn’t quite the same. I’d catch her with her lips pressed together hard, eyes a little red and knew she was struggling. I left her to her feelings and sat with mine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken another two cold nights of riding for us to arrive at the patch of woods, just as indiscernible from the rest, for Lucien to call for us to stop. It came down the lines in a series of shouts and yelps that worsened a headache I’d nursed all day. Sleep hadn’t been my friend. Elain and I both had sore inner thighs from sitting on the horse all day. Yesterday we both elected to walk for a while but today I was too exhausted to think about guiding my feet. I gritted my teeth and accepted the raw skin from all the chaffing. Morrigan had a salve that she said was her cure-all. It was the motivation I needed to swing my leg gingerly off my horse and step onto the leafy ground. 

Shouting started from the front of the line again, ordering all refugees to group together for tent assignments. All the humans, Spring and Summer Court fae banded to their respective brands. Morrigan led Elain and I off to the side as we didn’t belong to any of those categories now. Maybe some weeks ago I would have pointedly assigned us to the human bands but that changed as well. 

We were given tiny white tents to erect and Morrigan helped us construct ours. They were what I was used to seeing. A heavy tarp with two sticks propped up in the center to give it a triangular entrance and exit. There was enough cloth so it could be tall enough to stand in but so narrow only the cot and a tiny stretch of floor space was made. Elain and I were set up next to Morrigan and as they finished their tasks, Lucien, Cresseida and Gilah’s tents went up to make a semi-circle with ours. The benefit of our encampment being primarily fae forced Lord Nolan and his son to inhabit the human side of the camp, far from where I could remove his eyes. My nails itched to claw at him until he was as raw as he made Elain’s heart that day. 

The dark part of me wished that any of the males around me, anyone with a sword really, would run the human through. Now that only Lucien was among us, the responsibility fell to him and I wondered when the male, so enchanted by Elain, would finally snap. 

But Lucien and Elain were sides of the same coin. Infinite patience unfortunately. 

I’m sure Cassian would let me borrow his sword if I asked. Though, more likely, he’d run off to go kill whoever I so much as hinted at. _Damn that brash_ _male._

Thinking of him brought another pang to my heart that I didn’t want to bear. I threw myself onto my unmade bed and let myself succumb to my dreams. I was selfishly glad Elain wasn’t in the cot across from mine, being alone again let me free to embrace those feelings that haunted me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slept through the day and the night. I woke briefly when it was dark out to scuffling noises but they quieted. I trusted Lucien to protect us. I still was doubtful that Morrigan claimed a higher prowess on the battlefield but was slowly coming around to the idea. The more I watched Feyre return from training, the more I could see how Morrigan might dominate a field. 

I crawled to the mouth of my tent, glad I hadn’t bothered to remove my boots. My bladder was painful and I hoped I could steal a moment of privacy for myself. I pushed open the flap covering and my eyes were drawn to boots standing in front of me. I would have been more intimidated had I not seen the wings just behind them. 

Cassian stood in front of me, looking proud, with his arms crossed over his chest. He had a pleased smile as he looked down at me, crawling in an undignified manner. My heart jumped when he flashed teeth. That only made his smile widen and I clamped down on all my reflexes, except the one that told me to yield nothing further. To resist and resist with all my might. I fixed my face with a scowl and rose to my feet, staring at him. 

I didn’t have to wait long to get a rise from him. “Well? Aren’t you going to-” 

“I have to pee,” I interrupted, sidestepping him and walking with my back straight to the woods. I thought that would be the end. I’d be able to return when I was properly awake and prepared to face him, along with all the emotions he was getting better at evoking. But his heavy footsteps told me he was following and wanted me to be aware of it. “What are you doing?” I demanded, continuing to storm towards the outside of the camp. The air was balmy and didn't help my mood. Late dawn crept through the leaves, scattering yellow light on the ground.

“I told Mor I’d guard you both. Can’t let your privacy get in the way of that, now can I?” he said, practically on my heels. 

“But Elain-”

“Elain is sleeping in the center of the camp.  _ You,  _ however, are marching into the woods to do…” he trailed off and embarrassment flamed inside me. 

Even tired, I refused to let up. Digging myself a deeper hole. “How noble you are, peeping tom,” I sighed. 

“I was just sinking to the level you’re more comfortable at,” he breathed out, letting me know I was failing to rile him as he so easily could with me. It helped he was awake hours prior and didn’t have chafed thighs or a full bladder. 

“Far enough,” I hissed, waving my hand for him to stay where he was. 

“Don’t go far,” his eyes were serious. 

“How far then?” I dared ask. I currently considered the advantages to getting it over with and throwing myself onto his sword. If it got rid of my red cheeks, I’d try anything. 

“Within earshot,” he shrugged. 

My mouth gaped. His easy manner fell away. His eyes grew wide and his neck tightened. The moment extended into eons of silence between us. Us staring at each other. Him, painfully pinned by his words and me, eagerly holding them to him. He opened his mouth to speak but I was already declaring, “You are a sick bastard.” He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to find words that would not ever suffice. I left him struggling and waded into the woods, pushing away damp brush. I kept walking until I could no longer see the black of his armor, his wings. 

I washed my hands in a creek I’d almost stepped in. I kept my cloak precariously balanced on a nearby branch, not willing to ruin the fabric. With all the strength left in my thighs, I hovered myself above the pristine water. Morrigan’s salve had helped ease the chafe but the ache remained. I carelessly drank from it and splashed my face, letting the frigid water wake me up and wash away days of travel. I didn’t dare try for a bath. Knowing Cassian, he’d barge right in. 

_ Again.  _

“You went far enough,” his voice was strained. My muscles gave out and I could have went swimming had it not been for his hand at the back of my dress. I hung in suspension, staring at my reflection in the rippling water. He caught the neckline and eased me back from the creek. When I was seated, he glared anew. With how close he had been, I smelled the faint traces of cedar.

“I told you I wasn’t-” 

“Your privacy isn’t worth your life,” it was his turn to interrupt me. I closed my mouth, choosing a familiar scowl. His temple twitched. But his eyes were slightly wide. His worry was just as foreign and unexpected as his presence here.

“What are you doing _here_?” _You_ _aren’t supposed to be here anymore. I spent four days accepting that._

His strain fell away to reveal a smile. “Your inability to tie your boots distracted me last time. I didn’t get the time to give you this,” he held out the blue wrapped object I had spotted last time. I thought it had been something given to him and now that it was held out to me, I stared at it like I had never seen a gift before. “It’s for you,” he urged, shaking the gift. Somehow, that didn't clarify the situation for me anymore. 

My unfaithful hand reached out and accepted it. I rarely felt shy but at the moment I practically shook with apprehension. I knew by the weight and feel that underneath the blue scrap of cloth was a book. When I read the title, I was thrown back. It was a human novel. A human romance novel. Something inside me had started screaming, the roar filling my ears. I didn’t hear anything he said. I was consumed by my blaze of thoughts. 

The piece of me that knew self-preservation had me picking myself up from the ground, patting off my dress and marching back to camp. I’d tuck myself into my tent and die in privacy.  _ Yes. That’s what I’d do.  _

Cassian, of course, followed. He continued to say words and I continued to not hear them. His hand on my elbow spun me to face him. “Nesta,” he called, eyes searching mine. Though once he saw me, he was no longer concerned. He took in the sheet-white of my face and eyes like I was a rabbit, caught in a trap and knew instantly. I avoided his eyes after that and the self-assured grin. He released me to flee back to camp and followed at a leisurely pace. 

Though I couldn’t hide in my tent forever. I buried the book, changed my clothes and found I could only pace the tent for so long. So I spent the remainder of my time praying he’d leave and trying to breathe properly. When I emerged again from my tent for breakfast, I was not so lucky. He stood with Lucien, speaking easily. His eyes found mine and he smirked.  _ Damn that male.  _

“Nesta, brought you breakfast,” he lifted the plate in greeting. I had plans for that food to cover his face.  _ Arrogant male.  _ Without a choice, I ripped the plate so harshly from his hand it almost spilled. Cassian was further pleased. 

Lucien glanced at me nervously. “Cassian flew in last night. Nearly killed by Cresseida,” Lucien gestured to where the Summer Court fae glared murderously at us. I remembered her from the night Feyre had found the war camps, warning me my tongue might get me in trouble. I knew it would and I welcomed it. 

Cassian watched me so intently I wondered if he too could hear my thoughts. If so _ , arrogant bastard,  _ I thought haughtily.  But alas, somethings were not meant to be. “Rhysand asked me to make sure you all arrived safely,” he said, eyes not leaving mine. Lucien by then was firmly uncomfortable between us. 

“Quite safe, hurry back,” I said, chewing. 

“Oh I’ll be back soon enough-” his words cut off, eyes glazing over. I reached out to hand to steady him but he never . His face hardened and he spat out, “I need to go.”

“What happened? Lucien asked, instantly standing at full attention. One hand resting on the hilt of his shortsword. 

Cassian glanced between us. “We’ve been tracking down Hybern’s troops in the Spring Court. It seems Rhysand and Feyre found them. I need to fly there now,” he backed away, wings spanning out. He was going so soon. His armor seemed more real now that he was rushing off to some battle. My hand stayed extended, like it could stop him. Worry etched my brow. His hazel eyes met mine with firm resolve, lips thinned. 

“Be safe,” I said. 

A soft laugh escaped him. “As safe as you,” he promised and launched himself into the air, sending branches and leaves scattering in his wake. 


	65. Ignite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol lemme just write 6k words by accident. Slight violence and gore warning. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Each morning I woke with Rhysand was a struggle with my own desires and the duties that were required of me. I needed to report for training with Azriel. I’d been meeting with Thesan to coordinate his legions leaving for the Autumn Court and to finalize details with his peregryn Commander. I had to write out what I’d say to the Human Queens if they ever deigned to reply. Though each High Lord had personally reached out to me to ask about what I planned to say and then added what they believed the most successful strategy would be. Lastly, the plan for retrieving Tarquin’s Book of Breathings required constant review as nothing yet had been approved of. 

Rhysand’s presence in bed was what kept me in blissful ignorance of my responsibilities. I’d wake in several compromising positions with him, always wrapped up in a tangle of limbs that promised no easy extraction. The scent of lilac, citrus and the salt of sweat in the room begged me to remain a moment longer. Rhysand’s face was buried at my neck, shoulder or chest. After a few nights, he kept his wings out when alone with me. Everytime they appeared, I knew our day had concluded and the night could begin. He expected no visitors and we could retreat into each other’s presence like hideaways.

Our time together at night was synonymous with intimacy. We’d feed each other dried fruits, sweetened and spiced heavily, and tell one another secrets. He’d coax me into attempting some new form of my magic, provoking new and creative uses for it. I’d moved past heating up bath water into levitating the water, letting the fire dance around my fingers or making small ice cubes in the shape of our inner circle. I’d sat for an hour across from him with his eyes closed, insisting I was making a bust of his head with ice. He took one look at the ice sculpture and looked back to me in feigned amusement. The bat was accurate but not as  _ striking, handsome or ‘physically-gifted’  _ as Rhysand believed himself to be. I sent some other choice words down the bond and that had been the end of all magic lessons for that night. 

Not all the time was spent in play. We did learn more about my abilities at night. My magics didn’t switch with one another easily; it took significant time to draw out a different form. Especially with the Seasonal Courts this held true, the Summer and Winter Court abilities never both appeared in one night. I assumed the same would happen with the Spring and Fall, if I had the courage to even attempt the shifter magics. Rhysand didn’t push me to investigate Tamlin’s abilities but told me of all the powers my former betrothed possessed. I had successfully tapped into all my abilities except for Tamlin’s and winnowing. I rejected Tamlin’s magic and was beginning to believe winnowing might be the only thing I wasn’t capable of. 

But after training with my magic, it took such little coaxing to get him to bathe with me even in the cramped little bath. He’d take up the majority of the space and I’d precariously perch in his lap, the both of us keenly aware of how little it would take to become so much closer. Though we did remember ourselves long enough to clean one another, laughing over the dirt we found in impossible places. But the remainder of the time was quiet, gently exploring each other. 

Rhysand usually laid one hand under my left breast, holding my ribcage and the other between my legs, squeezing the tender flesh of my inner thigh. I’d press my entire backside into his chest and groin until I could lean my head back onto his shoulder with perfect access to his neck and ear. From that angle, I could trace his shoulder tattoos with reverence. I’d also found two more tattoos at his knees, twin mountains with three stars cresting their peaks, as a reminder he wouldn’t bow before anything besides his crown. 

I had pointedly reminded him that he had, indeed, knelt before me. He laughed. “Ah yes, but you  _ are  _ my crown,” he whispered, kissing my neck. I had not pushed him on what he meant, surrendering my thoughts to another day. 

Though today came too soon and while listening to Rhysand’s even breathing, I was even more reluctant to start the day. I stroked down his spine, careful not to brush his wings. The sooner he woke, the sooner this moment would be over. 

We’d be winnowing down to the Spring Court to begin the next phase of battle that started with a chase. Hybern’s troops were scattered in the Spring Court, wreaking havoc and ensuring he was in complete control of the territory. Killing his troops while they were separated was the best strategy to take down his ranks. The Summer Court fae would use the water systems to track down the soldiers as they had to cross a body of water at some point. Helion’s abilities to break spells were rare but the wind manipulation ranged far among the High fae. They’d sit throughout the woods and use the wind to find Hybern’s legions as well. 

Two days ago, Rhysand had returned from the last meeting and reiterated this to me as we stripped to bathe. I’d furrowed my brows and tried to calm my skittering heart. “What’s the matter?” he asked, ears twitching as he listened to my panic settle in. He tossed his forgotten gauntlets to the side, bringing me closer for inspection. 

His intensity only scattered my thoughts more. I trusted Rhysand’s reaction but not the feelings it’d raise inside me. Finding a way to address those would be difficult for me but it started with speaking his name, “Where was Tamlin in all of this?” I forced out, tone wobbly. 

Whenever Tamlin’s name did make an appearance, Rhysand flickered between rage and sadness. For how my heart still readily ached at his mention, his devastation was apparent. Any other context and I saw the unending rage glittering in his eyes, the tautness of his jaw as he fought for composure. At the moment, his anger was a blizzard I could feel through our mental bond that raised the hairs on my arm. “He remained silent,” he answered me quietly, fingers playing with my hair. A thought occurred to Rhysand and I felt the fear it produced as keenly as if it were my own. “Has he hurt you?” he searched out my eyes for an answer, terrified of what he’d discover. 

“No,” I matched his sincerity. “I haven’t seen him since we were called before the High Lords,” I opened my mental walls to Rhysand, inviting him to see as I did but he didn’t step into my memories. His mind warmed against mine in gentle thanks. 

Sighing in relief, he held me close like I could anchor him in the midst of his turbulent emotions. I guided him to a chair and helped to remove his armor. “I think the suffering I was subjected to, under the guise of training, would leave me prepared to deal with one errant High Lord,” I chastised softly, fingers deftly unlatching the new buckles on his breastplate. He’d begun to work on my armor as well. Some nights, spending time hunched over the table with tiny steel scales that he fixed to a leather platform with meticulous dedication. 

“Yes, my lady is nothing but a weapon,” he teased, kissing me. 

Thinking back to that night, I wondered if those words were going to be true after this war. I’d been training to fight and kill, honing myself just like one sharpens a sword.  _ What did I expect to happen?  _

Azriel had taught me a thousand and one ways to gut a person with them hardly feeling the blade. Cassian had taught me the millions of ways to kill a person with them acutely aware. Mor had taught both of those to me but replaced my blade with my magic. It was now up to me to use all their lessons to paint the battleground red.

Strangely, I wasn’t concerned I’d choke. I knew I wouldn’t hesitate. My worry was over where I’d stop, how far I’d go to see them safe. Not just my inner circle. But Alis who I hadn’t seen until she left with her two nephews, Thales and Linus, to march with the rest of the refugees. Bron and Hart and the five Spring Court soldiers all banished because Tamlin could not accept disloyalty on his commands, even for me. He could not let me risk myself and they had all paid that price. What I’d do today would protect them but I’d need to walk that fine line between keeping them safe and keeping them captive. 

Which was the main reason I hadn’t yet asked them if they wanted to join me in the Night Court. Rhysand told me that was well within my power to give them a home in the Night Court but I wasn’t convinced it would be perceived so genuinely. I had deceived them with my bargain and they must believe their loyalty had been misplaced in me. They’d lost their livelihoods for the wrong fae. 

“What’s taking up your mind, Feyre darling?” Rhysand’s low voice rumbled in my ear. 

“Returning to the Spring Court,” I answered. It was too close to the heart to not answer honestly. 

“Are you-”

“No, I want to go,” I insisted. “I just want some guarantee about how everything will end,” I nuzzled into his warm embrace. He covered me with his chest, head right by mine. His wings were as stretched as possible in the cramped bed and tent. 

He hugged me tightly to his chest, arms wrapping around my waist. His face buried in my tangled hair. I held him just as close. “I assure you one thing,” he began, steadily whispering into my ear. “If any of us were to fall today, we would wait for you on the other side.” His words were spoken into a dead silent room. I stopped breathing. “You could mourn us but we would rather you celebrate our lives because we surely aren’t gone. I would spend all my eternity watching you live and the other world will be no different,” he promised, lifting me with him from the bed. 

“I’d gladly wait for you,” I sighed, somehow comforted even though he confirmed the awful reality we will return with less than when we leave. The tender moment extended into minutes as we held close to the present. 

We broke apart when noise from the rising war camp became noticeable. Rhysand helped me into my much heavier armor. It was fashioned like the twin to his, gleaming black in the light except for the scales on the shoulder that gleaned silver. The buckles tightened at my shoulders and then three went along my sides. “Why the silver?” I looked from my decoration to his armor that was entirely black except for the barest shimmer of purple and gold. I couldn’t be sure if that was his magic manifesting or the armor itself. 

“Makes you easily noticeable on a field from above,” he replied. “I know you’re going to get away from me and I figured I should have some way of finding you,” he tightened the buckles until the armor covered all the straps. The armor looked impenetrable then, without any buckles showing, like I was born with snake skin. 

“What’s my way of finding you?” I glared. 

“I’m not exactly subtle so I trust you will have no issue,” he purred, taking in the fit. He made me gauntlets too though they went just to my knuckles. My greaves and vambraces were covered in the same black scale but when they wrapped around my forearms and calves, the leather was bare there. My calves were doubly protected since the greaves also slid over my laced boots. 

“Why not full coverage?” I asked, nodding from my greaves to his. 

He smiled, pleased I noticed it. “You’re fast enough that I think if you were in danger, you’d flee before being struck. Don’t prove me wrong,” he gave me a pointed look. I followed him out of the tent, sliding my shortsword and dirk into their scabbards at my waist. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel preferred their scabbards along their spines but I’d never learned the point of their Illyrian traditions. I’d stay to the habits I’d already formed. 

Though I was going to be with Azriel and two Illyirian legions, Rhysand winnowed us all to the south of the Summer Court. Cassian wasn’t with us but Rhysand didn’t comment. It seemed he’d be leading the two Dark Bringer legions and two Illyrian legions on his own. Azriel had already eased my worries that I wouldn’t be expected to be calling orders just yet. But he made it clear he hated the task anyway so it was fine if I did as well. 

When we split into our groups, I felt Rhysand’s eyes on mine but I squeezed his hand and walked with Azriel into the woods.  _ I’ll see you tonight _ , I sent down the bond. I needed to have confidence I didn’t possess. I comforted myself with the thought that I’d already died once. I knew there would be no second time but I thought of that dark pool I’d been suspended in and knew it was peaceful. I could wait for Rhysand there. 

When Helion and Tarquin got their forces ready, we’d use the Winter Court foxes as messengers. Though Varian had pointed out their white coats were as good as a smoke signal in the Spring Court so the Winter Court had taken each of their foxes the day prior and coated them in mud. The poor creatures skittered around with highly arched backs and wide eyes, traumatized from their dousing. 

They foxes did provide easy communication since Rhysand had told me daemati weren’t exactly  _ vocal  _ about their abilities. Thesan and Kallias, remaining guarded and close by in the Summer Court, would receive the messenger foxes and then coordinate which troops were to respond.

Throughout this entire plan, no one had raised a brow that the Spring Court’s High Lord was notably absent. I didn’t know where he fit into this plan. Surely his troops also wondered about the woods but I hadn’t seen a single green tunic yet. 

I tried not to focus on how familiar everything felt. The brisk air and verdant foliage, flowers blooming in every accessible nook. I was too far east to be near the Spring Manor but everything in the Court looked similar. If I turned a corner, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the white stone walls of the Manor nested in the rolling foothills. 

We crawled slowly through the woods and came upon an empty town. After a previous experience leaving four High Lords heavily dosed with faebane, including Rhysand, no troop was to enter a village until it had been vetted for traps. Instead, designated soldiers would scan for the magic. The two legions Azriel and I led believed Azriel would perform this for both of the areas but I worked in tandem with the shadowsinger. I walked along the town’s edge, sending out my magic like I had in the caves and felt no magic. Nothing hummed in the air around me. 

Instead, a boom shook the ground to the west. I froze in the treeline. My ears rang. Heart skipped a beat from shock. Azriel was before me in the next moment, hand on my shoulder to confirm I was unharmed. His grip so strong I felt it through my armor. Blue siphons were shimmering with magic. We looked as smoke plumes grew in the sky. “This village has no traps,” he said, voice too steady for how I felt. I reigned in my mind and nodded that I had checked it. 

Another boom but this time I was ready. It was once again to the west. 

“Continue to push to the next village. The woods are silent,” he said. 

“Should we send a messenger fox?” I asked, glancing at the smoke slowly unfurling into the blue sky. 

“No. I can winnow and return,” he said. I didn’t need to clarify that Rhysand was to the west then. Azriel would hardly leave for any other reason. “Stay safe,” he said, releasing my shoulder and fading into the shadows casted by the trees. 

We pressed forward as ordered. In comparison, I felt my presence was the least noted. I stepped quietly through the brush and the Illyrians were rather noisy. They were suited for the air and it was painfully obvious in the quiet woods where only birds chirping could be heard. It seemed though, Hybern’s troops didn’t want to take us by surprise. In the dense forest, they could have hidden anywhere but hadn’t yet sprung out. This would be my first time facing them. 

But to my surprise, the trees faded and we came to another village. Like clockwork, we kept to the outskirts and I scanned the village for magic. I didn’t find magic but I found heartbeats. As I extended my magic, my other senses followed as well and the pulsing of blood not my own filled my ears. One of the Illyrians looked to me, tapping his ear. I nodded. 

We kept to the shadows, trying to gain a better viewpoint. I wanted to send one of the Illyrians into the sky but their dark shadow would be another signal saying  _ come kill me here _ . The heartbeats could be Hybern soldiers or Spring Court fae, hiding out in the village. I kept quiet and listened, waiting for something distinguishing to come through. I didn’t have to wait long. Coming out from the other side of the tree line were darkly clad soldiers, pushing and shoving each other. Their clashing and howling echoed in the quiet. 

I held out a hand to the Illyrian beside me, so ready to pull out his sword.  _ This was what we are here for _ , I sighed. “Send a messenger fox and then we’ll go,” I reminded. Success in this was dependent on finding as many troops as possible and marking their locations. If we didn’t understand how Hybern moved his troops, we’d never be able to form attacks later. He seemed ready to argue but did as was ordered. 

Or I thought he had. I didn’t get another second before we were thrown off balance, crashing backwards into the woods. The  _ boom  _ from an explosion had tossed us all off our feet. I was better off. My experience when the Wall fell gave me the advantage. I had drawn my shortsword out of reflex and leaned on a tree, resisting the urge to heal myself. I couldn’t afford to isolate my magic to one ability just yet. 

At least I knew what Hybern’s troops had been doing: destroying the Spring Court village for sport. My eyes traced the line the soldiers made as they ran from the village and another boom rang out.  _ That came from your direction _ , Rhysand’s voice in my head was too loud for the headache I had. We had agreed speaking mind to mind should be left for emergencies. I guessed Rhysand’s need for my safety had counted as such. 

_ Yes,  _ I sighed out.  _ Azriel went in search of you. Is he with you?  _

_ No.  _ A moment.  _ He is inspecting the other explosion.  _

_ We found a troop _ , I said.  _ We need to go.  _ I didn’t let him respond. The Illyrians had enough of waiting in the shadows. The sight of Hybern’s troops, fleeing with glee like they had pulled the world’s greatest prank, had enraged them. I felt the same. We raced around the village and towards the soldiers, chasing the unaware soldiers. My feet were sure beneath me. I was ready. When I raised my sword and cut through one of the soldier’s necks, I felt relief. I wanted them all dead and I now had weapons at my disposal to see that happen. The screams and war cries began after that. 

But my mind had abandoned me and I was reliving the memories of training. Finding their weaknesses was easier than finding Cassian’s. They left themselves open like they had meant to invite my blade personally. Azriel had told me to watch for the soldiers with dual blades but all I faced now were long swords. I recalled Mor’s training with ease. Deflect their swing. Send them off balance. Stab. 

It was a rhythm I had found and danced to. 

The Illyrians though, were faster and much more eager. They weeded out the soldiers with joy. Each soldier that fell on their blades was eviscerated and the stench of bowel movements polluted the fresh air. We kept silent for a while, waiting for any remaining soldiers to make themselves known but we were alone. 

We continued forward. 

We ultimately came across two more troops. Azriel returned later but vanished again after seeing it was under control. That left me to focus on the skirmishes. I hadn’t fooled myself into thinking this was all war was: a series of cunning strikes and a few close calls before turning at night, safe and sound. But it was difficult for me not to wish it wasn’t that way. The blood was manageable that way. I could pretend it would wash off and my skin would stay clean. 

The Spring Court remained quiet as the last of the soldiers were dispatched. The Illyrians around me were not as inviting as the Spring Court soldiers I had been around but I could feel their eyes on me. They followed me everywhere I stepped, sizing me up as an opponent. Now that I had killed twenty two with barely a blood spatter on my forehead, I could see the gears turning. I paid them no mind. I was focused on our task at hand. I wiped the back of my gauntlet across my forehead to stop the sweat and blood from dripping into my eyes. I pulled my waterskin from my waist and drank a long pull. Even as winter neared, I had worked myself into the same sweat as if we still remained in the Summer Court. 

We had one more village to check before returning because there would be no setting up checkpoints. We were far from taking back the Spring Court, just looking for survivors and removing any soldiers we could find. 

My ears perked. The sound of stones crushing caught my attention and I raised my hand to the Illyrians nearby. They were already alert. We all crouched in the brush, waiting for whatever was going to emerge. Ahead of us, the woods ended and I’d bet my life a road was laid down. By the approaching noise, it was a cart. I resisted the urge to creep closer. If we could hear them, they would be able to hear us soon as well. 

My worries were for naught. I heard the reverberation of the string before the arrow struck. The Illyrian standing next to me went down on a knee, clutching his shoulder that had an arrow the size of my arm protruding. Chaos was next. 

Hybern’s soldiers must have heard us first and ran into the woods, looking like dark shadows with the suns at their backs. Whatever we had come across wasn’t a mere troop. Suddenly, the two troops I moved with seemed like a horribly deficient lapse in judgement. I belatedly thought to call for those foxes to send a message but they were already upon me. I raised my sword to block but had drastically underestimated the force. It nearly crushed me to the ground and I struggled to pull my muscles together to match their power. 

Training kicked in and I dropped my sword, diving to the side to avoid the blade. They were on me again, forcing me back. The male I faced was more powerful than the rest. He had been formally trained. He guarded himself better. Fear licked at me. Sweat beaded down my forehead. His eyes were wide and feral with an excitement that made my stomach churn. His lips pulled into a cruel smile. He raised his longsword and swung as if to cleave me in two. I dodged. He continued to hack. His longsword kept me far. I only had a shortsword and a dirk. The way he guarded himself told me I’d get no closer. 

He said something I was sure would have offended me if I heard it. The roar of battle droned out my ears. Illyrian war cries were louder than I had ever expected. Now I knew why Cassian’s voice sounded raspy. 

The male continued to prowl closer. He was enormous in his full metal plate. It took both hands to grip his longsword. He backed me further and further the way I had come from. I tried my best to keep from being pushed into a trap. This male getting me in a corner was a surefire end. I debated using my magic but Rhysand advised me to use it as last resort. Another soldier crashed into our fray, aiming for me, and I sliced through them with my dirk, shoving the body at my pursuant. The male was nonplussed. He let the body fall on his longsword. The sword cut through the corpse like butter. 

It would take one mistake for that sword to get me. 

I summon my courage. The male was not Cassian. If I could deck Cassian, I could kill this soldier. He lumbered. His sword guarded him but he made large steps, swinging his weight from foot to foot. When he stepped, I met him. He swung. I dropped and drove my shortsword through the armor covering his thigh. I punctured the heavy plate with my strength. My sword exited out the other side. He grunted. I dove through the space of his legs, not waiting to see him fall. 

He wasn’t down. I heard him thundering after me.  _ How the fuck are you still alive?  _ I thought, sprinting. Not only was he not dead but he was angry. I heard his thunderous steps, groan and shouts. He would be on me one way or another. I spun to face him and brought my short sword up to meet his downswing. This time, I was ready. I threw away his swing with my entire body. When his weight followed the fall of his sword, I unsheathed my dirk and aimed for the gaps in his armor. I stabbed repeatedly at his armpit where his breastplate and pauldron couldn’t cover. His gauntlet met my face and sent me sprawling back. 

Pain exploded behind my eyes. I rolled to avoid his kick. But not far enough to avoid his hand fisting in my hair. To my horror, he knelt on my back. His weight pinned me. Dull roaring settled in my ears. He wouldn’t be satisfied by killing me. He pressed painfully into my spine. His other hand had yet to appear and I wasn’t going to wait and find out. 

Without hesitation, I summoned the magic in my veins and raised my hand to the one in my hair. I envisioned that gauntlet melting under my heat and the answering scream had me grinning. Once the weight on my back let up, I rolled once more. I didn’t think. I jumped on him. I pressed my hands into his face, pushing off his helm. My thumbs covered his eyes and I summoned all the heat I could, letting my hands turn into fire. His screams weren’t enough, only when he stilled and dropped to the ground. I was tossed and sent sprawling. 

But my head. I didn’t allow it a moment. The roar had taken a presence of its own. I realized it didn’t come from me. Rhysand had been banging on my mental walls. I had to ignore it. If I stopped, I was lost. Whatever had almost happened, didn’t. I collected my dirk and shortsword. The battle was still raging. My own struggle went unnoticed. I looked at the soldier’s face and drove my shortsword into it repeatedly, destroying it beyond recognition. I didn’t want to but I repeated that with his hands. I couldn’t leave evidence. 

I stumbled away, killing another soldier who approached me.  _ Twenty four _ , I told myself. Bright light blinded me when I hobbled into the road. Carts lined the road. Several soldiers took notice of me. I only saw the troops scattered around them. Raising the alarm, they began shouting. One knocked an arrow. My eyes were drawn to the carts. I smelled it. Explosives. 

I was quicker than the arrow. Rhysand had been right. I was faster than most. I jumped on one of the carts. I didn’t wait to find out what type of soldier these males were. How experienced they were at the art of killing. It barely mattered. Not when the fire in my hand reached into the cart and lit the fuses. I didn’t wait to watch realization settle in them but I wished I had. 

I jumped off the cart and into the woods. No matter how far I ran, I hadn’t been far enough not to be tossed from my feet. Several explosions so loud I barely heard them rocked the world. Heat burned my skin. The shockwave propelling me through the air. I flew for a moment. Spinning so fast the world blurred. 

I landed in mud, head spinning. Air knocked from my chest. I couldn’t hear. Again. Tree branches cracked and fell through the air. Entire trunks came crashing down as each cart exploded, one after the other. Smoke plumed in the air. I kept low where the air was clearer. Everything in the direction of the carts was on fire. I was surprised I wasn’t among them. I thanked my Autumn Court magic for that. One hand fumbled for my shortsword. It was still there. I checked my dirk. Somehow, still attached. 

My head sank into the mud, letting the cool substance coat my singed skin. I slowly rolled to my side. It hadn’t been mud. I was laying in one of the Illyrian’s handiwork. My stomach lurched and I vomited. I pushed to my feet, leaning on a tree for support. I didn’t see soldiers closer to the explosions get up. I assumed them all dead. Instead, I stumbled further into the woods. Slowly, different fae were rising from the ground, appearing visibly shaken. If they had wings, they lived. 

When the Illyrians were grouped, I picked one and took their waterskin. I didn’t care. Mine was empty. I raised it to my lips. It was lukewarm and tasted stale but it coated my dry throat. 

I didn’t have to wonder what came next. What came next was me finding a tree to lean against. My head pounded. I couldn’t hear anything around me. Azriel appeared first. Cassian and Rhysand landed next, wings folding in. They hit the ground so hard it trembled. I let my head swing to the side, appraising their panicked expressions as they took in the forest that burned to the south. The dense grey smoke that choked air from my lungs. The remaining Illyrian soldiers, now collecting themselves to head home. Then their eyes fell to me, smothered in blood and guts, staring tiredly back at them.


	66. Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's chapter 66(6)!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

It seemed silly the more I thought about it. I missed our old tent because I could care for that little shrub. I could walk out into the woods right now and transplant another into my tent and it wouldn’t be the same. 

The Autumn Court wasn’t home to many flowering plants as was natural. Most of the bushes and trees had colorful leaves, characteristic of the season, but permanently suspended that way. Time didn’t leave the trees bare for Winter. Instead, the leaves fell and new leaves sprouted up in their place, colored in the same reds and oranges as if it had been born just to die. 

But I found it lovely. The woods looked serene and untouched. 

I didn’t spend too much time enjoying it though. I had woken that morning to find that Morrigan would be remaining with Nesta and I for the entire day. Lucien had winnowed away with Cassian to the Spring Court where they’d spend the day hunting Hybern’s soldiers. I felt guilty indulging any other thoughts besides concern for their wellbeing. Being happy or carefree at a time like this felt selfish. 

Not that I could. My thoughts were distracted and I could hardly focus on anything but their absence. I thought when Lucien escorted us to the Autumn Court, it meant he would continue to guard us. He would stay with us and away from the front but I had not counted in the type of male he was. Ever since I met him, he had thrown every effort into our protection. This was no different. 

Morrigan and Nesta were dividing resources. Morrigan would rummage through the sacks, Nesta would record and then divide them among the refugees. Nesta’s order would be carried out by one of the fae soldiers that guarded us when we were still home. The one nearest me was named Sherwood, he nearly jumped the first time Nesta told him what to do. They fell into an easy enough rhythm, slowly and surely mapping out how much food we had and how long that would last. Feyre’s plan, though it had been thrown together, was still feeding refugees now. Feeding me now. 

I sat nearby, repairing a cloak for Aaron. His hawk had landed on his shoulder and torn large gashes in the shoulders. He had looked uncomfortable when I asked him for it but I didn’t take no for an answer. I kept my hand out, palm facing upwards and he’d relented finally. It didn’t take much after that to get situated repairing different people’s clothes. I had a needle and spare thread and that was enough for the fae to ask me to repair theirs. 

The humans kept separate from me. I knew them all by name from how many times I visited Graysen. Yet they never approached me. Not even the people I had liked. Once Graysen had taken back his engagement ring, a black mark had been thrust upon me.  _ Fae-lover.  _ I was positive the rumors had spread viciously. 

I ignored what they said but my heart couldn’t ignore how it felt to have  _ them _ say it. The people I'd befriended. To watch Graysen walk by me without a glance. He used to steal moments out of his day to ride to my home just to spend a few minutes with me. Now his brown eyes, that I thought had been the perfect shade of soil, were cold as frozen ground. His father had been the instigator that day. Lord Nolan had not been born kind and he had accused me of many acts. His fervor had peaked at telling me that I had let the fae worm their way into my heart and I was tainted. I had been replaced by a changeling. 

I didn’t defend myself. My sister was fae. Lucien was fae. All the friends I had found at the Night Court were fae. I could argue that Cassian and Azriel didn’t count as they were Illyirians but hate didn’t abide logic very often. I wouldn’t let go of them. 

But what Graysen had said was the final straw was I lied to him. Nesta and I had told everyone our sister had died. At the time, we thought it was for the best. Feyre didn’t return and we had to accept we’d never know what became of our little sister. I knew it killed Nesta; she never succeeded in going after Feyre. It killed me a little more each day to live with those actions. But now that Feyre was back in my life, I refused to give her up. I’d lose no more memories of her. I wouldn’t allow people to glamour her away. I wouldn’t let her walk into the woods alone. 

If I lost the memories I had now, even the ones of fleeing from my home, I’d be lost. It would be a death in itself. 

With renewed vigor, I refused to say anymore goodbyes. Lucien would return at the end of the day. I’d feel his presence again in the small ways he reminded me that he was there, watching over Nesta and I. Bringing us comforts that were rare during the war, like the apples he kept in his saddlebag. They’d been wrinkled and bruised but the best he could offer and tasted just as sweet to my tongue. 

When I finished the sewing, Morrigan let me braid her hair. I had been itching to touch it. They were just as soft as I originally assumed. Ever since I had seen Lucien in the garden, I wondered at how it would feel to run my fingers through the red locks. He wore it with two small braids stemming at his temples and the rest to free fall. Considering I’ve seen him doused in the Andros River, covered in blood and dirt and it fell just as neatly as if he combed it, his hair must be of finer quality than any humans. “You’ve a soft touch,” she said, sitting patiently for me on the leafy ground outside our tents. “Your sister not so much,” she laughed. 

“Nesta is a little rough around-” 

“I was speaking about Feyre, since we trained together, but she fits too,” I giggled, glad Nesta was reading in her tent and out of hearing range. “What do you think you’ll do after this war?” she asked me, changing the tone of our conversation. 

“What do you mean?” I asked, really to delay my answer. 

“Will you return...to the Human Realm or are you and Nesta going to stay? At the Night Court?” she clarified, piecing it together by my pounding heart and quick breath I didn’t know. I had thought about that most nights. Did I want to return to my old life? My father was out there somewhere but I couldn’t say I placed enough value in that. Even after Tamlin had raised my family from poverty, my relationship with the man didn’t improve. But I still resisted believing he had been caught by Hybern’s forces. I didn’t want to think of the alternative that he had died while Nesta and I fled.

“I’d like to find our father, I guess,” I admitted. 

Morrigan stilled. “Your father? He’s alive?” 

“Yes, why?” I furrowed my brows. I stopped braiding. “He’s a merchant. He was trading in the continent before the War began. My mother died when I was little. She got sick.” 

“When no one mentioned it, I guess we all figured your parents already passed,” she leaned back into her seat. “Rhysand would want to know that. He’d send soldiers to find your father.” I couldn’t help but giggle at that too. Rhysand asking my father’s permission to marry Feyre was unreal. “What did I say?” she asked, hesitantly laughing along with me. 

“Feyre and our father haven’t exactly seen eye to eye,” Nesta and my father’s relationship was even worse but I didn’t embarrass my sister like that by bringing it up. “My father lost our fortune and debt collectors were...rough with him. He wasn’t the same after that. We fell into poverty and that's when Feyre walked into the woods, hunting to support us,” I explained, my voice tight. 

Morrigan sat quietly with what I told her. After a pregnant pause, she sighed, “Then maybe it’s better that Rhysand doesn’t know about Feyre’s father.” 

I was inclined to agree. 

“Are your parents...alive?” I asked, wondering if it was rude to ask about fae heritage. Should I know her parents by how her hair was near gold? Or Lucien’s by his copper hair? Was I surrounded by royalty?

“Yes,” she answered tightly. “To quote…we haven’t seen eye to eye." 

“You don’t have to...talk about it,” I offered, swallowing. The way she was tense beneath my fingertips, I knew whatever she was about to say would devastate me. 

“It’s alright,” she patted my hand, smiling up at me. “I’m not the same person I was. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” she shrugged but the gesture was stifled. “They attempted to sell me into a marriage. My power was...sizeable and I made a perfect future wife,” she parroted, voice dripping with disgust. 

I found I couldn’t breathe anymore. I had finished braiding her hair long ago. Now my hands rested captive on her shoulder, afraid to let her go. “What did you do?”

She laughed bitterly. “I ruined the match. Took one look at the first male I saw and slept with him. The Autumn Court didn’t want me after that and neither did my parents as it seemed,” she shook her head, fingers playing with the scales on her armor. 

I sat down besides her, taking her hand into mine. She stared at where our hands threaded together but her eyes were glazed and red. A few tears had escaped. “I’m sorry that you were forced into that,” I whispered. My throat was hoarse. Even my eyes burned. She looked up to me, red lips popping open when she took me in. “But I am so glad I could meet you now,” I nodded, squeezing her hand in mine. 

I recognized her smile. It was the one Nesta gave me when she wanted me to believe a lie. When she was anxious or in pain or close to tears and wanted me to leave her to her misery. So I did Morrigan the favor of smiling brightly and sitting next to her, enjoying the peaceful woods with our hands entwined. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting with Morrigan outside our tents left me alone with my thoughts and fears. As the day crawled into dusk, they only intensified. Only when my nerves had wrung my body out like a wet rag did Lucien finally return. He winnowed in with Cassian and both Morrigan and I shot from our seats. My worry seemed unneeded. His tan skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and smudged in places with dirt but otherwise he was untouched. Cassian looked a little grimmer but it was his forearms that were bloody. He wasn’t injured either. 

They both were laughing together over some shared experience. My eyes caught on the crinkles at Lucien’s eyes. He rarely smiled so broadly. They caught sight of our approach. Lucien’s eyes scanned over me, insistent upon checking for himself. In the face of my worry and panic, my heart still found room to skip a few beats. 

“I see you both took your time making the rest of us worry,” Morrigan scolded, her face serious. Lucien’s eyes left mine long enough to give Morrigan a sheepish look. Cassian had no self-preservation and only pulled her against him, mussing up her hair. “You’re  _ wet _ ,” she laughed, her anger breaking. His bloody vambrace brushing her cheek and smearing it. She pulled away and Cassian’s eyes flicked from her to behind me. I didn’t need to confirm it was Nesta. The General only looked so intense in battle and with Nesta. 

“I’m going to grab some bandages,” Morrigan shook her head, wiping at her cheek. “And some rags, you filthy cretins.” 

Morrigan had caught what I missed. Lucien’s left hand looked savaged. My first reaction was to bring it closer for inspection but I kept my twitching fingers at my side. “Did it hurt?” I asked him. Cassian excused himself, eyes still beyond us. 

“It didn’t feel good,” he said, a small smile appearing. 

“I bet not,” I cursed myself for asking something as ridiculous as  _ did it hurt?  _ The skin looked like it was hanging by threads. I bit my lip like it would keep all my silly words from pouring out. 

“It’ll be healed soon,” he assured me anyway. “Do you need anything? I am to join Cresseida on watch tonight.” 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I gulped. His mouth opened and closed, unsure. My head felt light with him around. I didn’t know where to put my hands. I’d fidget and catch myself only to continue fidgeting. He always sent my mind spinning. Some piece of my heart wanted him to see that I was worth the protection he gave Nesta and I. To show that I wasn’t just a broken-hearted woman, needing to be coddled. I cleared my throat. I had my answer. “I’ll help bandage your hand,” I nodded. 

Just in time as Morrigan had returned. I plucked some bandages from her. “It’ll need to be washed,” I said. Lucien just followed my movements with his eye. He was frozen to the ground. I continued to watch him, one hand on my hip. 

With his healthy hand, he pointed towards the woods. “There's a creek.” 

“Lead the way,” I shooed. 

He didn’t need more probing. I followed his stiff gait through the woods. It would be dark soon. In the woods, sunset always came sooner. The trees were just black shadows with an orange sky above us. I heard the bubbling creek that Lucien had sensed back at camp. He knelt at the edge, thrusting his hand into the cold water. He hissed, bearing his white teeth. 

Not wanting to watch a second more, I knelt down next to him. “Here,” I eased his hand from the creek by the sleeve. I cupped my palms and let the water trickle over the deep gashes. It would still be painful but in small doses. His breath ghosted my forehead, hitching when the water touched his hand. “I can’t see too well. Is it clean?” I asked him quietly. 

“Yes, thank you.” We had no reason to be whispering except not to disturb the silence. I nodded, pulling out the bandages. I took the moment to judge how I should wrap it. If the water hurt, this wouldn’t be anymore pleasant. “I can bandage my hand, Elain,” he offered, misreading my inspection for hesitation. 

“I wanted to,” I held his damaged hand at the wrist, carefully winding the bandage around his hand. He bit his lip until he drew blood, barely containing a groan. “You do so much for Nesta and I. It is the least I can do.” His eyes were intent on my face, half-lidded. 

“But I am  _ supposed _ to protect you,” he insisted, strained. The muscles in his neck tightened. His other hand was fisted in the soil. I wondered what had done this to his hand. It looked like a talon. 

I smiled. “And I’m to just be a burden, sitting pretty?” 

He sucked in. “You are not a burden.” I looked up from his hand. Our noses almost bumped. My eyes widened, taking his earnest eyes and furrowed brows. “It’s my honor to protect you,” he declared. 

“You don’t have to get hurt for me,” I whispered. He continued to wear himself thin for me. For Nesta. Procuring us clothing, shelter and then marching off to fight when he could have stayed away and safe. He was ready to throw his life on the line. He had thrown his life away to see us to safety. My eyes stung. 

He lowered his eyes, thinking. “I would if it protects you.” He licked his lips. My fingers deftly worked to tie the bandage. His mind must have been far away as he barely winced. But after I finished, my fingers still held his wrist. I didn’t want to let go just yet. He’d run off to face the next battle and I wanted him to stay. 

“Who is going to protect you?” my breath puffed out in the night. I sought out the flecks of russet and gold. His mechanical eye missed nothing as it scanned over me. My eyes felt swollen and skin itchy. I couldn’t move past the fear I held in my heart today. Lucien might not have returned today. Only a stray arrow or lucky knife was the boundary between life and death. I imagined his body savaged just like his hand. Grief for what almost happened weighed me down, pressing the air from my lungs. My heart was erratic in my ears. His ears twitched. 

His hand caught my chin. The warmth of the skin from his hand, pressing onto my cheek was blissful. “Elain, you don’t have to-” 

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” I whispered, near furious. “I care about you.” 

His hand cupped my cheek. His eyes flicked to my lips. Barely having to lean forward, he pressed his lips to mine. His lips were warm on mine, chilled from the night. I tasted the salt of his sweat. The shock of kissing him was nothing compared to the rightness of how it felt. The mere scent of him, like vanilla and cinnamon, consoled me. The heat of his body permeated into me soothingly. His presence was real and mine. 

I raised my frigid hands, wrapping them around his neck. He secured me against his torso, holding me with a grip so tight it trembled. I wound my fingers through his hair, tugging softly. One of my thumbs traced the calloused skin of his scar. The barest moan escaped him. I didn’t waste the opportunity. I ran my tongue along his lips until he opened his mouth to mine. His bandaged hand traced my spine. He sat back, away from the creek and brought me into his lap. Not that he had a choice as my arms refused to unwind from around him. Once I had him near I didn’t want to let go. I believed I could will the moment into eternity.  _ Stay. Stay. Stay with me.  _

“Elain,” he whispered against my lips. Like a prayer. I laid over him, raising my head from his lips to view his face in the moonlight. His lips were full, swollen from kissing me. I felt giddy in his arms. “Elain…I..” his head snapped to the side, looking into the dark woods. 

“What-”

His hand covered my mouth, smelling like soil. I heard the whirring of his mechanical eye as it focused. Only the stir of branches and leaves in the wind greeted my ears. He was up on his feet so fast I felt lightheaded and disoriented. He eased me reluctantly onto my feet but my hands continued to cup his face. His eyes were wide. Fear. He slowly pulled my hands from him, pressing them to my chest. “Elain, you need to run back to the camp. Tell them Hybern’s troops are coming.” I opened my mouth to reject but he pressed a hand to the small of my back, urging me back to camp. “Go  _ now _ ,” he demanded, his one good hand unsheathing his sword. 

I took one last look at his back before lifting my cloak and dashing through the dark woods. My tears flowed freely and I gasped in air. I ran towards the campfires, legs pumping furiously beneath me. But I heard the snapping of branches behind me. Something was approaching fast. I refused to be caught unaware. I spun to face them and wished that I hadn’t. 


	67. Gouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

I couldn’t read the book until I knew Cassian was safe. I tried to start but my eyes would glaze over and I’d only reread the same sentence. After retreating to my tent from Morrigan’s blissful distraction, I quickly gave up on the idea of reading. Light filtered through the white tent and in the day, the temperature was almost comfortable. It was a perfect day for reading and yet I knew I’d never read a single page until he was back. 

Laying on my side, my thoughts circled around Cassian. The worst came when I thought what a stray arrow would do to him. I simultaneously was cursing the male for taking up my day like this. Even when he was gone, he denied me the pleasure of being peacefully alone. 

_ Arrogant and brash.  _ His voice was so loud. I could hear him clear across the Night camp when he laughed, tipping his head back with untamed joy. When I had spent the afternoon in Helion’s tent, I could still hear him when he shouted orders. Even when he sat right before me and had lowered his voice, what he said was just as disruptive. Using those searching hazel eyes like when he found me in the library. His eyes alone had pinned me in place but it was how he seemed to take up the entire aisle that kept me sitting. If I moved at all, it would be towards him. 

I didn’t have the advantage of having excessively broad shoulders and standing nearly a whole head taller than him. I had to make due with my stares but that didn’t daunt him. The more I tried to dissuade him, with barbed words and underhanded jabs, the more he pursued. I knew the only other option was to completely ignore the male. 

In some stupid way, I enjoyed our verbal spars. I didn’t want them to end but that's the only way this...whatever could go. Time was not on my side. I had willingly entered this, knowing it would hurt me later. 

I pushed Cassian’s book under my pillow for the moment. Promising myself it meant nothing and I’d read it when the idiot returned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For once his loud voice didn’t grate on my nerves but assuaged them. I lifted off my bedroll, ears perked to the sounds I could hear outside my tent. Another hearty and warm laugh. I paused before stepping outside, my hand outstretched towards the tent flap. My irritation was tenfold: that insufferable male now had me hesitating. 

I rose from the tent with my chin high and my shoulders back. I was determined not to act like I had spent the day fretting even if that was the truth. All that facade faded when I saw him. Besides for a glimpse at Elain, I barely noticed who stood around him. 

He looked worn but in one piece. I couldn’t rely on that easy smile he wore to divine if he had any injuries. I had the feeling he’d still laugh at a joke even if he had a hole in his body. But nothing was bleeding from what I could tell. His hands seemed to have been elbow deep in blood but they were only painted in it, not the source. 

Knowing he was safe, I took in other details. His left eyebrow was intersected by the faintest scar. I hadn’t noticed the slight stubble at his chin earlier today and I wondered how I could have completely missed it. 

The next time I looked to his eyes, he was looking back. The laughter faded from his eyes and was replaced by sincerity. I warmed when I saw his chest depress a little, tension fading from him too. Elain was standing with Lucien and he stepped around them to approach me. I noted Morrigan, slipping into the woods while Cassian and I were distracted. He stopped a pace short from me. 

“You came back,” I noted, swallowing. 

He flashed a smile. “I tend to do that.” 

“Don’t you...don’t you want to go back to the war camp? Take a bath?” Even my own jest sounded flat to my ears. No bite behind it. 

He shook his head. “I thought I should let you know I was safe.”

“Why?” 

He laughed, almost breathlessly. Hollow. “Are you going to claim you weren’t worried?” he asked. “That you didn’t care if I walked off that killing field?” his eyes sliced into me, stripping away all barriers but I still held fast to my guards. 

“I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d be alright,” I stated. It was all a lie. I had aged a lifetime today over the fear in my heart and I resented this male for putting it there. I couldn’t function today without thinking of him. 

“Why?” he asked, shaking his head. He made a  _ tsking  _ noise. He looked away, squinting at the woods like they whispered back to him.

“Because I’ve seen you fight-”

His wings fanned out before snapping back to him. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” his eyes sought out mine. Even as they held me, they searched my steel eyes for some glimmer of truth. His ears twitched, listening to my fast heartbeat and my unsteady breaths. He was honestly lost for the answer. 

I huffed. “Because one of us has to keep their heads on straight,” I hissed out, planting my hands on my hips. Anger was familiar to me. It kept my blood warm and thoughts straight, pushing out the heady scent of cedar from my mind. I could pretend all I wanted while my ire was up. His eyes widened. He hadn’t expected this. That only made my blood boil. “This can go nowhere. It has no future.” 

“Bullshit,” he whispered, voice furious but quiet. Trembling. 

“I have maybe forty good years left,” I stated. “Probably less while we are in the middle of this war if we are honest with ourselves. You’re immortal. You’ll move on,” I could see the moment my words flayed him. His face crumpled a little as if I slapped him. I wanted to pull back the words but they’d already hit and I’d have to live with the damage. 

“I can’t fix that,” he shook his head, rubbing his temples. “What do you suggest then? We ignore each other until one drops dead? I won’t. I’d rather spend whatever time-”

“Don’t you dare say that,” my voice was ice. “Don’t say you’d rather spend whatever time you have with me. You say you don’t care about my mortality while I’m still young and pretty,” I motioned to my face. “Once I have wrinkles and my breasts aren’t as perky you’re going to run,” I nodded, condemning him to that fate. 

He remained quiet for a while. The sun had set and the woods were cast in blue light. But I could still see the tightness in his form. How he shifted from foot to foot as he ran through his thoughts. His wings flared at times. I tried my best to stop noticing things about him but failed. Everyday I discovered new things about him and I wanted to stop myself desperately. I knew where this would go even if he didn’t want to accept it. I’d watched my mother wither away and I knew the same was my fate. All their magic in the world couldn’t put a heal on my mortality. 

His lips were tight. “No,” he shook his head. “Not if it's you.” My lips thinned. “What is wrong with letting us be...for now?” he asked, head hanging to the side. I watched another stray hair free itself. 

I licked my lips. The Mother could damn me for my words but they were necessary. I resolved myself to this fate the day I got too close to the male. This was only the natural course my actions had wrought me. “Because it will end and end painfully,” my voice had no bite. I sounded tired and without a leg to stand on. I wondered if the male could see how thin my willpower was. Could he see me shaking where I stood? 

I should have been resolved when he nodded and launched himself into the sky. I should have found comfort knowing that I would be left alone. But all I could feel was emptiness. I returned to my tent to hide myself away. I curled into a bawl, refusing to cry. I stared vacantly. When I remembered his book, stowed beneath my pillow, I brought it out to look it over. My will to open it up and read was drained. I didn’t want to vanish into these character’s lives. I had every reason to want to escape my thoughts and yet I resigned myself to suffer. 

I fell asleep with the book tucked to my chest. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wing beats roused me. Powerful and loud.  _ Cassian.  _ Just thinking his name made me smell cedarwood. It was still full dark out but I didn’t care. I’d curse him for calling on me so late later. I was just eager to see him. To know he didn’t fully hate me for all the things I had said just hours ago. I wanted to hear him tell me I was wrong and that he’d go on ignoring my requests as usual. That I’d have to get used to him because he was there to stay. 

I pulled my cloak on to face the cold night. A winged figure stood in the moonlight, towering shadows that swallowed me whole. But they were all wrong. There were no broad shoulders or coal-black hair pulled back. Instead, grinning silver teeth and sinewy muscle like they were sickly. Their eyes alighted at the sight of me.

“Human,” it greeted, a smile threatening to swallow it’s entire face. Wide ears flicked around as they listened to the silent camp. 

It nauseated me to know it spoke. I glared back at it, crossing my arms.  _ Bide my time.  _ I knew someone would come. Lucien. Morrigan. Probably not Cassian, having rid himself of me. I straightened my back.

A clamor was starting in the south of the woods. This creature wasn’t alone. “You look awfully familiar, human,” it goaded. “Any relation to-”

“Go away,” I demanded. I heard shouting. “Go away before someone here skins you alive and roasts you.” I hoped Azriel did get the chance to skin it alive. Lucien could provide the fire. I wanted to see this creature cook alive. It knew Feyre and if it knew her, it had been one of her tormentors Under the Mountain. This creature of nightmares had been what she faced and I vied to see it torn limb from limb. I’d do it myself if I could. 

A loud roar filled the air, hurting my ears. It echoed off every tree in the woods. But the creature and I continued to size each other up. I knew when it took me in, it would not find an opponent but a victim. I was not Feyre. I didn’t have her confidence but instead a crushing sense of reality. I knew how it would end if this thing got a hold of me. 

When it laughed, it clicked. The sound coming out choked. It’s long tongue snaking around a fang, shaking off the amusement. It smelled of rot and stale air. My stomach was sinking with every passing moment. No one was coming for me this time. Feyre wasn’t here. Lucien wasn’t here. I prayed Elain remained with Lucien. She’d be safe. “King Hybern will teach you your place, human,” it nodded. “I will too.” 

Fights were breaking off around us but we stood at the eye of the storm, in a moment of calm. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

A high scream filled my ears. But I knew that soft voice.  _ Elain.  _ I didn’t wait for the creature to lunge. I sprinted to my left with a speed only wrought from fear. Terror clutched my chest but not for myself. I knew Elain’s voice since the day she was born. That high-pitched scream was no different. My legs propelled me forward. I cursed my dress. My long cloak. Everything that stood in the way of getting to her faster. 

“Elain,” I screamed, weaving through tents. I heard the flapping of wings behind me but I didn’t look back.  _ Come and get me _ , I thought. I’d find my sister if it killed me. I used all my might to push myself faster and faster. I didn’t feel the strain of my lungs or heave of my chest. My side screamed from effort. 

A blinding pain threw me off my feet, into the leaves. My back was hot as if it’d been set afire. I groaned out, staring at my hands in front of me. My breath was heavy. I couldn’t move. Hot liquid soaked the bodice of my dress. The creature had gouged at my back. My legs were sprawled, motionless. I dug my hands into the ground, trying to pull myself. The agony in my back muscles threatened to knock me out.

I heard the flapping again. The creature landed somewhere behind me. “Elain,” I called again, inching myself away.  _ Keep moving _ , I urged. A pain in my leg made me scream. The creature’s long talon dragged slowly over my calf, ripping the flawless stockings as it cut. Blood seeping out stained them red. “Elain,” I tried again, my voice was slower. A haze descended on my thoughts. I continued to pull myself though the talons held me still. It’s smile only grew. 

“Scream louder, human,” it grinned. It reached down, wrenching me to my feet by my arm. My head lolled. I moaned out at the general pain that consumed me. So many places ached. 

A roar caught me. My head swung. Cassian emerged from the woods. His wings were shredded. Several arrows protruded from them and I knew where all the shouting had begun. I released a sob anyway. Seeing him was relief. I knew he’d stayed for me. He’d kept close, ignoring my requests and deciding to stay by my side regardless. 

He didn’t need to search for me. He knew where I was always. Our eyes connected. Terror seeped into their hazel depths as he beheld me, held in this creature’s clutches with a single leg to stand on. I knew it was hopeless then. If Cassian was fearful for me then I was lost. Tears burned at my eyes at the bitterness. I had warned him so. I opened my mouth to call to him but it was ripped away from me by the loud sound of wind roaring past my ears, the entire world going black.


	68. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone commenting, thank you so much. I love reading your comments and I am doing my best to reply! Also, gore warning on this chapter. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Morrigan:**

The moment Elain and Nesta were distracted, I was gone. Cassian wasn’t injured. At least, not physically. I had a feeling I would have had to fight Elain to bandage Lucien’s hand. The sisters were safe and that freed me. All week I had been swamped by responsibilities of caring for the refugees. The Summer Court fae were relatively used to their life now and could be relied on to take care of themselves. The Spring Court fae and humans needed the most supervision. All the freed Urisks were becoming restless now that they had their saplings returned to them. Luckily, they listened to Lucien without hesitation, as well as the Spring soldiers left at the manor. The humans could be self-sufficient but were prone to start fights, thanks to Lord Nolan’s goading attitude.

If my time wasn’t caught up there, I was assigned to patrol or watch over Nesta and Elain. Lucien had worked in the Spring fae, a total of seven new soldiers, into our rotation but it still didn’t seem like enough. I found myself wishing for the thousandth time we had been sent with more soldiers and that the other courts provided them like they were asked to. Since they hadn’t, Rhysand was forced into giving me up to babysit: the only way to balance out the woeful lack of protection. Thankfully, Tarquin and Kallias had also provided Cresseida and Gilah. But Gilah didn’t speak unless directly asked a question and Cresseida refused to look at me. 

So I sought out Cresseida with the hopes I’d have better success at warming her up to me instead of Gilah. She was on patrol tonight with Lucien and with Lucien distracted by Elain, I had the privacy to confront her. Even Cassian wouldn’t seek me out for at least an hour. 

I would have thought her white hair would have given her away in the blue woods. But she was smarter than that. She wore a black headwrap that tied around her skull into a bow, vanishing her into the dark. I knew the feel of her magic so as I approached, I knew I should be seeing her but she remained hidden.

“What are you doing, Morrigan?” she asked, voice taught. “You are on patrol tomorrow night.”

“I’m aware, Cresseida,” I snapped back, finding her hidden in the shadow of a tree. For a fae that was so suspicious of the Night Court, she wore it’s darkness equally well. Only her blue eyes glimmered in the moonlight but they didn’t have Rhysand’s playful luster. The navy was turbulent and near gray. 

Her eyes incrementally widened at my harsh tone. The last time she had spoken to be, I had been docile and meek. I let her ream me out for a decision I wasn’t at liberty to make and I wouldn’t have changed. “Then why are you here?” she narrowed her eyes. She pursed her lips to the side, “I have nothing to say to you.” 

“I have a lot to say to you,” I laughed sardonically. “It’s fine if you don’t want to speak, I tire of your judgement.” I added, watching her cross her arms over her chest. Throwing away my diplomatic skills was freeing. Political speeches weren’t always synonymous with the truth and I wasn’t going to waste another moment trying to be delicate. “I am not here to apologize for what we held back. I only am sorry for how I hurt you and nothing else. Rhysand’s motives were honest and unfortunately, secrecy between courts isn’t exactly a new concept. You’ll have to forgive me for being equally wary of your court. The Summer Court might not have the same reputation but it’s powerful irregardless. It could have hurt Feyre whether it meant to or not.” 

“High Lord Tamlin would have had a right to know what bargain Feyre had ent-”

“ _ Lady _ Feyre,” I corrected. She couldn’t honor Tamlin’s title and forget Feyre’s. Not to me. “And he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. Not that it makes it all right but him not knowing probably helped save my Lady.”

“We had a right to know. It is our territory that was attacked. We can’t get anywhere unless we start uniting-”

“Then stop fighting us,” I begged. The truth was freeing to me even when it hurt. I didn’t enjoy the deception. Ever since the night I’d admitted what the Night Court had done, I’d felt relief. It painted us in the same damning light we had always been cast in but I wore it proudly. “We couldn’t reveal that information for a hundred different reasons. I’m sorry it came out the way it did, like I actively tried to deceive you but I wasn’t. You know this. You have to know this. Even more so, you have to push High Lord Tarquin to trust us again. We aren’t your enemy.” 

What I loved about speaking so honestly was it forced others to do the same. Cresseida gnawed on her cheek, knowing she had to reply with just as much truth. Deception was not an option for us anymore. My magic gave me the ability to force truths from people’s lips and pull at the guilt inside them; however, as we spoke, my magic barely responded to our words. 

“I know this,” she nodded firmly, testing out the words. “I know you aren’t my enemy.” 

I sighed out, closing my eyes in bliss. 

Heartbeats in my ear were my first alert. My magic pulsed erratically. Cresseida tensed. “We aren’t alone,” I whispered, moving to her side. We kept still, not letting them know we knew they were closing in on us. I strengthened my sound barrier on our voices. 

“There are too many to count,” she replied, either hearing their heartbeats or sensing the blood pulsing through their veins. “You should get help.”

“If I leave, you’ll all be dead before I could return with aid,” I gritted back. “If you take the right, I’ll take the left. Use your magic sparingly.” How could I get a message to Cassian? To Lucien? How would Rhysand know? The mental links only worked if he was looking for our thoughts and Rhysand actively tried  _ not  _ to hear what we thought.

“There are too many, Morrigan. Our magic is our only option,” she shook her head. 

“Then we have to be smart. Only one of us will call on it, the other can defend short range,” I planned out. She withdrew a sword crafted from seashell and steel, reflecting pink in the moonlight. If the enemy was near, they knew now they had no surprise left. The precipice cracked, all of their dark figures stepping into the moonlight. I was caught by how many there were. They couldn’t have marched that many across the Autumn Court. They must have been winnowed in. But that meant that someone knew where we would be. 

_ We had a spy.  _

Aaron and Sherwood emerged besides us, having sensed the oncoming battle from their positions in the west. “Shepard, Oliver and Farrel are getting ready now,” Sherwood’s deep voice announced. “The Illyrian is in the east, I am not sure if he is aware.” 

_ Cassian is here _ . My thoughts eased. Not being alone in this hell was assuring to me. I didn’t want to die without a single member of my Court to know what happened. I thanked the Mother and Cauldron for that stubborn male who refused to let the woman he loved be unprotected.

“Defend our flanks. Stay out of my range,” I warned. They were smart and stepped away to do as I said. I swept a hand over my magic. It responded jittery, begging to be released. Unlike Rhysand or the other High Fae, I couldn’t release my magic with neat tricks. My magic, left to it’s own devices, worked its way into the people around me. Wards and winnowing were the few ways I could continually drain the magic inside me. It left me tense but at the moment, I was grateful for the power that raged inside me that ached at the thought of escape.

My thoughts fled me when they charged. Cresseida kept to my side, raising her sword for when they eventually pushed through. But in the moment, I let my magic fly like arrows and spear them all. It choked their thoughts and their rushing bodies fell to the ground, screaming out their worst actions. The quiet night was filled with their confessionals, roared to the moon above. They laid writhing on the ground before us. With another push of my magic, they were drawing their swords across their own throats. 

As more came to charge from behind, I flung out more magic. Though it was only as good as my accuracy and I couldn’t let it all go. Allies were still around me and magic didn’t discern between friend and foe. I could easily kill Cresseida if I lost my precision. A few soldier’s broke through. We watched them run past the line my magic began at. Once they crossed it, Cresseida was hacking them down. She preferred the serrated side of her sword when she tore off limbs. Her screams of rage joined those of the soldiers I pinned to the ground with magic. Sherwood and Aaron were flanking us, cutting through the other soldiers who ran too far to my sides to catch with magic. 

_ Where was Cassian? He should have been here.  _

The screaming deafened my ears. When I felt the magic well inside me drain, I pulled mine back. “Cresseida,” I called out, stepping past her. It was her turn. I waited eagerly to see if she would use that coveted ability, not yet confirmed in her blood. 

I wasn’t disappointed. Soldiers stopped as they charged, clutching their chest. They choked, splutter and spat blood before crumpling to the ground. The ground was covered in leaves and bodies alike, so many that it formed a barrier. Charging soldiers needed to crawl over their dead comrades, avoid our magic, for the chance to fight us. 

They adapted quickly to magical warfare. Ash arrows flew. I ripped a shield off a fallen soldier and sacrificed my dirk to hold it. Backing to Cresseida, I watched for arrows and wielded my sword in simultaneous motion. My attacks became less frequent. If Cresseida fell, their front line would hit us in full. I had to rely on Aaron and Sherwood helping. 

The flapping of wings sounded over the gurgling noises and war cries. I couldn’t afford a glance, sliding my eyes to see a black figure I prayed was Cassian. Red flashed in my peripheral and relief crashed into me. Sweat dripped from my forehead. Cassian’s temper must have reached an all time high. His siphons flashed a blinding red and soldiers surrounding him screamed from the burn. My shield was covered in arrows.

“How many fucking soldiers did Hybern send?” he shouted, cleaving soldiers in half. 

Cresseida’s magic faltered. A bolt from a crossbow hit the shield, breaking through and puncturing my wrist. I grunted. Cresseida’s arms fell to her side, her magic slipping away. I rushed to throw my own back out to protect our front line. The screaming began anew as my magic forced them to fall on their own swords. Gilah, Shepard, Oliver and Farrel had found our struggle. Gilah’s personal brand of magic was freezing soldiers where they stood, hacking through them with an emotionless efficiency. Bron and Hart fought further down the line. 

Even with them, we totalled at eleven. Eleven against an entire army. 

“Where is Lucien?” I groaned out, my magic shaking my muscles which aggravated my wounds. We needed his flames to set fire to the entire damned place. Light exploded further into the woods. But behind enemy lines. 

“I’m guessing there,” Cassian pointed at the flames that consumed the woods behind the soldiers. My stomach sank. Lucien was so far away. “If he’s behind their lines-”

“Go,” I shouted. Cassian took off into the night, quickly flying past the canopy and their range of fire. But he didn’t disappear into the night, I could make out his shadow against the moonlight. Apparently, so could Hybern’s soldiers. His roar shook the woods, hurting my ears. It echoed into the night. My horror was complete. Cassian was hurt. Badly by the sound of his scream. I couldn’t move without collapsing the frontline. Lucien was behind their lines and now without help. “Cassian,” I screamed into their lines. “Cassian.” 

_ Come on come on _ , I begged, hoping a black figure would emerge. I bounced from foot to foot. The moments stretched onto long. Only screaming filled my ears and the longer I didn’t see Cassian, the more those screams sounded like his. I heard creaking. Red puffs of light far where I could make out the wielder. Was it Lucien or Cassian? The creaking grew louder. It came from a tree. I watched, horror-struck as several trees fell, crushing soldiers beneath them. More kept coming down. I clamped down on my magic, letting the trees do all the work. Lunging out, I barely caught the neck of Cresseida’s breastplate before jerking her towards me, away from the falling trees. 

Her entire body weight fell on mine and we tumbled backwards. Her elbow jammed into my chin, sending stars into my vision. I should have counted myself lucky her sword fell to the side and not through my torso. “Cresseida, it’s me,” I moaned out, shoving her off me. 

She pulled me with her when she rose up, quick and prepared. Though her black hair wrap had come partially undone and her white hair was flecked with blood, but still irridescent in the moonlight. We turned our focus onto the falling trees. Happiness came in the form of a winged figure, glowing red and using all his might to send trees crashing down on his soldiers. Though one wing was obviously lamed, pressed tight against him, he was up and alive. Breathing and fighting. 

Soldier’s continued to come and I divided my magic around Cassian’s shadow form. Holding both my hands out, magic flowed from my finger in either direction, felling the soldiers where they ran. My magic was becoming less concentrated. They were only paralyzed on the ground by their fear, resisting the pull to kill themselves. I threw all my effort into forcing their hands to grip their blades and slash across their throats.  _ Do it you murderous bastards _ , I gritted out. 

Cassian propelled himself into the air in a feat of shear determination. “They’re going after them...this was a distraction,” he shouted, his flight unstable and faltering. He crashed through the treeline above, landing somewhere behind me. More crashing ensued and I assumed he continued to try to get airborne.

Confusion hit. Then realization. And more horror.  _ The refugees. Nesta and Elain.  _

I wanted to run to them and I couldn’t. Duty kept me bound to hold the front line and with all my heart, I wanted to abandon it. Ultimately, I wasn’t given a choice. An arrow, missed by Cresseida’s shield, pierced my left shoulder. The faebane hit my system next and my magic guttered, retreating from the soldier's throats. 


	69. Swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another gore warning!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I felt gross and sticky. Blood, dirt and bowel movements covered my backside. A drip of vomit on the front of my breastplate. My back ached like someone had split it in half, or tried to. That was nothing in comparison to my limbs that had almost been torn from me during the explosion. At least, the high pitched ringing had subsided in my ears for me to vaguely hear. 

When Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel appeared, I knew my seat was temporary. I stumbled to my feet to greet them. Smoke drifted past my nose. Hair clung to my neck and forehead, either from sweat or the liquids that covered me. I could tell from their faces they were just as keen as I was at how dirty I was. That didn’t quite take away from my satisfaction. Rhysand’s face was unreadable while he scanned me. To my surprise, he didn’t prod my mental walls. 

“Did you roll in everything or just shit and blood?” Cassian cocked an eyebrow to me. 

“It wasn’t my choice,” I cringed, trying not to think of what was on me. “The explosion threw me in one of your soldier’s handiwork.” 

“Explosion.” Azriel's voice didn’t make it sound like a question but he drew out the word, like a slow confirmation that I had indeed said  _ explosion _ . His eyes flicked back to me, assessing quietly. 

Rhysand, bold as always, cupped my cheek. I hardly noticed the sweat off his hand as my cheek was still wet too. I met his eyes when I said, “They were carrying explosives...trying to destroy what they couldn’t occupy. Their supply ignited,” I shrugged off the question in their eyes. In public, I had no powers. I was only an exceptionally lucky fae. 

Rhysand’s eyes glittered with amusement but it didn’t reach his lips. They were still small and fretted. “How unfortunate for them.” 

“They must have had carts full to burn all the soldiers. It smells like meat cooking,” Cassian scrunched his face. He continued to scan the smoky woods. His feral grin was contagious. “I want to see the body count from this.” 

“I thought you said this was a safe territory for Feyre,” Azriel said, sliding eyes to Rhysand. “That was the reason I stepped away. It was supposed to be safe for you,” Azriel said apologetically, dipping his head to me. The small bow was odd coming from them. If they started calling me  _ lady  _ I’d have to say something. 

I smiled at him, shaking my head. “That’s not necessary. We knew this day was going to be full of surprises,” I shrugged. Azriel seemed a little comforted but I could tell he still regretted his decision of leaving me alone. I would have pressed my hand to his if I wasn’t so gross. “Azriel. We made a decision,” I nodded firmly at him, hardening my eyes. “It’s not your call if danger finds me.” The soldier in him responded immediately and he straightened, curtly nodding to me. 

Satisfied, my eyes slid to my silent mate.  _ You gave me the ‘easy’ area?  _ I was only saved from feeling a tad hurt by Cassian’s confidence in my ability. He  _ had  _ trained me first. His approval of my capabilities was critical. 

_ I wanted to keep you safe. It was your first time out in the battle. I...I...I’m sorry.  _ Rhysand’s voice sighed against my mind. His hand lowered to my neck, thumb smoothing my jaw. 

My insecurities aside, I smiled at my mate.  _ I won’t hold it against you, it was your first time.  _ I teased quietly. His eyes lit up, brow raising at me as if to ask me if I realized the double meaning. I flicked my brow in response.  _ Does this show you I’m more than capable?  _ I added. 

_ Quite capable and talented is my mate,  _ his echoing laugh warmed me. 

“If you kiss her like that, I might vomit,” Cassian’s voice interrupted. 

“Cassian, if I recall correctly, you slept with that fae after the War,” Azriel’s confused glance was aimed at his brother. “And in the morning, you found an  _ ear  _ still plastered to your neck.” I wished the story wasn’t true but Cassian’s broad laugh told me it was. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We walked among the bodies for the afternoon, trying to glean what information we could. It was harder the closer we got to the center of the blast. My eyes looked for the body of the male who had pinned me earlier. Something wanted confirmation he was dead. His body must have been close enough to the explosion because roughly where I had killed him, a charred corpse laid. The only confirmation I got was that the fae’s hands were missing. 

Cassian was right though. It smelled strongly of cooking meat but knowing the source of the smell had turned my stomach to gush. Especially since urine made the air acrid in my nostrils. I tried breathing through my mouth but it was heavy enough to coat my tongue. I swallowed my vomit numerous times. 

_ I felt your panic _ , Rhysand’s voice drifted into my mind. He was a few paces to my right but it felt like he was right behind me. Instead, Azriel was directly behind me. Cassian was to my left. It didn’t get past me that they surrounded me. 

_ I’m sorry,  _ I replied. I didn’t want to distract him. That could have easily killed him, the worry over me. 

_ I was barely in the heat of battle but I felt like I was choking. I could feel all your fear and I tried finding you and...I couldn’t.  _ His voice died out. 

_ I didn’t know. I wish I hadn’t done that to you.  _

_ I trust you. I trust your ability. Forgive me for doubting you.  _ He said quietly. All his words were small caresses to my mind.  _ I was so scared I was banging on your mental walls. Did you not hear me?  _

I swallowed, thinking back to that male who pinned me. If I had let my fear get the better of me, I would have been taken.  _ I was fighting. I’m sorry I didn’t respond.  _ Rhysand looked to me, eyes murderous. Obviously my words had conveyed some of that panic.  _ He’s dead, Rhysand.  _

He paused, taking the moment to collect himself. I used my mind to stroke against his comfortingly.  _ I hope it was painful _ , his voice was bitter. 

_ It was, _ I promised. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once we got to the carts where the explosion had happened, it was just a field of black bodies. Nothing to be gleaned. Except when Cassian picked up a metal object, hissing and tossing it back since the metal was still hot. He’d reached for the helm of a soldier. Rhysand’s face cleared of emotion. “You killed a Captain,” he had said, studying the decorated helm. 

I then learned that Hybern had six generals. Five now that Amarantha was dead. Each general had between eight and fourteen captains. It didn’t seem so impressive. But Rhysand was pleased. 

After that revelation, Rhysand winnowed the remaining Night Court troops back to the camps. Cassian took to the skies immediately, flying for the refugee camps. I asked him to pass a message to my friends from the Spring Court. I decided I couldn’t wait. I’d invite them to stay in the Night Court and if they never wanted to speak to me after that, I’d have to accept it.

Rhysand smiled approvingly. He then proceeded to tell me, with as much politeness as could be mustered, that I smelled terribly. That a bath would never be enough. So he stood close while I waded into the Andros, slowly peeling off my layers of armor. By  _ close  _ I meant that the water washed over his boots because he had primly refused to leave my side. I didn’t mind his proximity in the least. The closer he was, the further I felt from that male’s hands and weight pressed on my backside.

“It’s the mating bond,” he explained to me while I washed my armor off. I’d given up on modesty and stood in my breast bindings and my undershorts. I knew that anyone sneaking glances would have Rhysand’s wrath to contend with. After my own, of course. “It’s not complete so my instincts are...heightened,” he shifted, one hand massaging the pommel of his sword in a rare nervous gesture. 

“How come I don’t feel the same instincts?” I asked worriedly. 

“You haven’t realized the bond yet.” I gave him a quizzical look. So many fae terms and traditions I didn’t know. “It exists but your body hasn’t attuned itself yet to the bond. You likely won’t feel the bond until it’s completed.” 

“Completed? Is it...unfinished?” I searched for the best word. The way I spoke made the mating bond sound like a construction project, just needing a few more bricks before it could be inhabited. 

“Currently, yes,” his face begged me in some way but I wasn’t sure of what. He shifted again. I was walking myself into something awkward, I knew it.

“How is it completed?” I asked, dipping into the water. I scrubbed my scalp until my hair was swollen with the clean river water. When I emerged, I only rose enough for my nose to be above the water. 

Rhysand pursed his lips. “Mating bonds are completed by...mating,” he provided. 

My cheeks felt the flush first. I was glad the water obstructed any view of my body because I was flushing all over. The water also hid my scent which had peaked noticeably. “Oh. Does it hurt you?” I asked, concerned. I inspected him over, wondering how badly his instincts had been weighing on him these past few days. Everytime we were intimate and never went further, was his heart roaring at not claiming me like it wanted? How long had this struggle conflicted my mate? 

His answering smile taunted me. “If I said yes, would you jump into bed?” he teased, enjoying the violent red spreading over my cheeks. He sighed, inhaling strongly through his nose. The water wasn’t doing a good enough job at carrying my scent away. “No. It doesn’t hurt me. But I thought you should know why sometimes it's a strain for me to...separate myself from you.” 

“It’s hard for me to leave you too. I had to force myself to walk away this morning,” I assured him, enjoying how his worry washed away in the Andros. I walked towards the shore. His eyes traced my body as I emerged. The hunger in them was no longer veiled. I swayed my hips as I walked and took great pleasure in his half-lidded gaze. My nipples perked beneath the bindings due to reasons besides the chill in the air. 

“Would you like a cloak?” he asked me, eyes flicking from my face to my breasts. I shook my head, breathing in the strong scent of citrus and salt. I had bathed in the freshwater of the Andros but Rhysand washed me anew in a sea breeze. I smiled at his quirked lips. I closed in on him and raised my palm to his cheek, bringing his face lower to mine. Pressing my lips to him after a day of denying myself the pleasure elicited a wistful gasp from me. But I continued to kiss him until my entire front was flat against his chest. He slid his tongue into my mouth, caressing my teeth and tongue. I loved how his hands cradled my head while he kissed, securing a longer kiss. 

We broke apart, gasping. My hands clasped behind his head, drawing our foreheads together. “Your instincts need not worry,” I whispered, ensuring his sound barrier kept our time private. His eyes trained on mine. “I am yours,” I affirmed and he squeezed me closer, one hand tightening on my bare waist. “And you are mine,” I nodded firmly. 

He could only give the barest nod that he heard me before kissing me.

We kissed while the sun set in the warm, hazy air. He winnowed us to our tent and I spent a long time reminding him that he was mine. I needed the proximity and he needed the reassurance. Becoming intimate with him after a day of carnage seemed at odds but I wanted to forget. I wanted escape and he was like a doorway to an alternate reality. I could forget the people I had to kill to end this war. I could forgive myself for the deeds I committed when I was with him. It only took one look at his heavy gaze, face strained with pleasure for me to know that I was fighting for more days of peace. For more days filled with this loving male and I knew that I’d re-enter the fray for him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhysand fell asleep with his arms around my waist but my eyes refused to shut. My hand drew circles on his chest instead. My mind was wide awake. I could only describe the feeling as the air feeling wrong. Rhysand’s body pressed to mine kept me aware that I was safe but something in the world was still reaching towards me. I could feel their dark tendrils reaching towards me. They looked a lot like Amarantha’s hands, beckoning me closer. 

So long after midnight, I was still awake when Azriel flew open the tent flaps and marched in. I leapt up from bed to greet him in one of Rhysand’s tunics. I didn’t feel the slightest bit tired and I knew whatever news Azriel had was the reason why. Rhysand was quick to rise behind me. Azriel’s complete disregard for our sleepwear only panicked me further. But it was his face that told me that his next words would devastate. 

“Gilah just winnowed in. The refugee camp was attacked,” he stated, watching our faces closely. “Cassian’s wing is injured. Mor was hit with a faebane-laced arrow.” I was no longer breathing. I knew what came next. It had been the risk we had all taken and lost. And still I resisted the words like I would resist being tossed from a cliff, by digging my heels in and straining backwards. “Nesta, Elain and Lucien were taken,” he swallowed, eyes solemn when they connected with mine. I grabbed Rhysand’s hand. He squeezed my hand with equal fierceness. I was sure I’d die. I knew I should. They were gone and I had brought them here. Not only were they taken but by the most cruel male alive, whose sadistic intentions were only outmatched by his greed. 

Azriel bowed his head, staring at his hands while he spoke. He continued to report on how many humans were taken in total and the total slaughter. How Hybern had sent wave after wave of legions directly to the camp, ensuring distraction so he could snatch our refugees. It had taken all their combined effort to hunt down the soldiers but so many saved were now dead. That Elain, Nesta and Lucien had been separated during the struggle and now all three were taken. It was unclear if Hybern knew he now had my sisters but evidence suggested he did. It also suggested that someone in our camp had given away the location of the refugees. If I found that spy, I’d wring their neck. Gilah was the only fae who hadn’t drained her magic or been dosed with faebane so she winnowed once all the soldier’s had been killed so deliver the news. 

“They are calling a High Lords meeting,” Azriel finished, eyes full of hatred. 

Rhysand hissed. “Of course they are,” Rhysand’s eyes met mine, taking in the quiet devastation. I wasn’t sure I was present anymore. If I couldn’t reach my sisters, I’d be faced with accepting their deaths. We couldn’t afford anymore time lost. The longer they remained in Hybern’s hands, the more suffering they'd endure. I needed to move, not sit. 

My blood ran hot in my veins. I was terrified for my sister’s lives and for Lucien’s as well but I was angry too. Angry that I had been betrayed by someone in this camp and that Hybern had taken the lives of the people who had just escaped with theirs. They had been the survivors in this gruesome world. They deserved that happy ending just as Rhysand and I did. Hybern had stolen that from them and I felt vengeful. I wanted to tear into him until there was nothing left. Even more so, I wanted him to hurt just as badly as the world had. Bleed until he knew how his hatred had stained this world red and I wanted most of all for him to know I was coming for him. 

“I’m going to the camp. We need to get them back,” I gritted out, meeting both of their eyes. “I don’t care what it takes. I am getting my sisters and Lucien back. Hybern can’t fucking have them.” Rhysand embraced my determination with sadness in his expressive eyes. I knew he prayed we would make it in time because I was praying that too. 


	70. Watch Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't @ me, okay. It ain't over until it's over. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Elain’s nails dug into my arms. I was sure my arms were bleeding from how she pinched me. I was numb to it. My head was heavy against the cage’s walls. My back pressed into the bars and the all-consuming burn kept me as close to lucid as possible. I had long since lost feeling in my sliced calf. Elain continued to cry into my chest, far more aware of the horror show around us. I kept one arm draped over her back but for the life of me I couldn’t move it. 

I wanted to stroke her back. Give her comfort and tell her that we would be safe. But I couldn’t manage to lie to her. I could barely lift my chest against her weight, nonetheless protect her. I knew if they came to pick another human, I’d volunteer myself before they took her. Anything to extend her time here. The longer she survived, the greater chance at being saved. I didn’t know if they’d come soon but I could hope. 

It was unlikely.

I didn’t know if Cassian still lived. His wings had been punctured with arrows. I didn’t know if ash could kill an Illyrian. I forced myself to accept he was dead. Knowing he was gone, I choked. I didn’t know what else could come from this world. How much more destruction could I witness until I had enough? How many more people would I lose before this world had taken enough from me? 

Until I didn’t recognize myself?

Until I was alone? 

Would I watch my younger sisters die before me now? Or would they be forced to watch me go? I had no way of knowing. It seemed I would find out soon though. 

My forehead leaned on the cage bars, wincing briefly. Elain’s tears had soaked my dress front. I glanced to my arm, small trails of blood from where her nails bit my skin. I told myself the sting kept my head clear to watch over her. 

But really I just held vigil for Lucien. 

Once we were winnowed into the camp, which unsurprisingly was at the Spring Court’s manor, the entire place went into uproar at the sight of us. I thought it was because there were a lot of fresh humans for them to play with. Yet, their eyes had been trained not on us but on Lucien, alight with malicious glee. They chanted  _ High Lord’s son  _ until my ears deafened to their shouts _.  _

Lucien had been bound, gagged and then a sack thrown over his head.  _ Which was for the best _ , I thought. I don’t think I would have been able to watch his face while they chained him to a pole and whipped him until his back was a bloody painting. Elain would have stopped breathing altogether if she had to see it herself. Instead, she did what she could to stifle her tears. I forced her to turn her back to the sight so no one would see how she wept. I covered her frail form with her cloak, hiding her beneath. 

I wished I could hide myself too. Each time I watched his body jerk violently while the tail connected jolted me too. The dusty earth beneath him stained red. They only jeered, ecstatic at their capture.  _ They had taken the High Lord’s son. The banished son. The Autumn Court’s forgotten son.  _ The names went on and they all painted Lucien worse than before. 

I wanted to ask what they thought they had won by capturing the least favored son of the Autumn Court. I held my tongue. While I protected Elain, I wouldn’t risk her safety by willingly endangering my own. 

They left Lucien to dangle, chained to the pole after he had stopped reacting to the whips. They’d attempted to rouse him but he remained limp, hanging by where his wrists were handcuffed to the pole. It had taken numerous tries for them to realize he wouldn’t be responding anytime soon. His hands looked white, chained up there. His knees had given out. His body stopped moving altogether. His head hung to one side, still encased by the cloth draped over it. Blood stained the fabric before his mouth. 

I had read somewhere that when a fae died, that their loved ones were supposed to watch over the body until the next dawn. It ensured the departed met the Mother’s dawn and made it into the next world. So I kept my vigil for him, eyes trained on his limp body while the darkness turned into the dawn. My eyes grew weary of watching him hang there but it only took Elain’s sniffle to renew my determination. 

I breathed in the crisp Spring Court air. It was largely polluted by the smell of urine, sweat and fear but somewhere in there I could smell the grass. Some roses.  _ This would be a peaceful place to die _ , I thought. Elain would have liked to stay here someday but she could be anywhere and love it. She probably would find something lovely even in the tundra of the Winter Court. I knew her heaven would be full of flowers though. A few shrubs too and Lucien if the Mother was good. 

I didn’t expect the same kindness in the next world. I’d never sacrificed my life for others like Feyre had. Or devoted myself so wholeheartedly to loving others. If I was lucky though, I’d find the woods in the next life. Large tree trunks that scattered the forest floor in orange pine needles so at sunset, the forest would look aflame. Or a grove of cedar trees would do. 

I thought back to Cassian. His outstretched hands that might have crossed the distance between us if I had let him. His wings had tried to flare. He tried to fly to me before that thing winnowed me from his reach. His eyes had been wide with the reality that I had been stolen from his grasp, before his eyes. Self-destruction had engulfed his eyes. He’d looked at me like when I was taken, his future went with me. And I had looked at him much the same.  **  
**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn came. Lucien's body still remained hanging outside. Elain still cried into my chest. I had eventually joined her. I wiped away all traces of my tears when the camp began to wake. The stirring grew louder and louder later into the afternoon. The reason why became apparent when the banners were raised. The entire camp was assembled and they crowded any view I had of what happened. The chants began and I knew that King Hybern had finally arrived. I pressed Elain further into my chest, resolving that I would go first. 


	71. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll write a short chapter so I can get to the main plot," -Me, lying earlier today. 
> 
> Gore warning on this chapter!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

No one made any of us wait at the High Lord’s meeting. Every High Lord was in attendance, barely a few moments after we had received word from Azriel. Rhysand and I had strapped on our armor and winnowed directly outside Tarquin’s tent. Azriel followed, keeping close to my right. Once every High Lord had sat, Gilah began her long report. With every passing moment it got increasingly worse but she never mentioned Nesta or Elain. She confirmed that Lucien had been taken and Beron leaned back in his chair, the only reaction he let slip from his calm demeanor. 

“Was anyone else taken?” Helion asked. 

Gilah’s eyes revealed nothing when she said, “Most of the humans were kidnapped. Many Summer and Spring fae are dead.” 

My hand tightened and relaxed on the back of Rhysand’s chair. I tried to keep myself from combusting into flames. Announcing that my sisters had been stolen would win me any favors. No one in this tent, save Rhysand and Azriel, would lift a finger to save them or the remaining humans in captivity. I knew Rhysand was just as anxious as I was through our bond but his demeanor was casual. I tried to mimic it but I could have passed for ice for how frozen I felt.

“Varian, you will go to the refugee camp now. Report back tonight,” Tarquin shook his head. Varian’s face was immobile. That wasn’t abnormal for the relatively emotionless fae but in Gilah’s report, Cresseida had been among the injured. Though I envied him. I wish my sisters were merely injured. If I was being quite honest, I wish I had forced them into the Night Court even though there was no changing the past. Even though they had adamantly refused to leave my side, knowing the risks. Even still, them hating me for my eternal life would have been preferable to whatever hell they were in right now. 

“I will join you,” I nodded to Varian. 

_ Thank you _ ,  _ would you be so offended if I asked Azriel to not let you out of his sight?  _ Rhysand said to me, hand tight on his own thigh. I couldn’t imagine what the mating bond was doing to his instincts. Hybern had destroyed our sense of security. No one was truly protected and I could see Rhysand struggled to let me out of his sight. Rhysand would need to stay behind in the High Lord’s meeting and sending me out alone after we had been so thoroughly violated by Hybern’s troops was slowly crushing him. 

_ I will not leave Azriel’s sight _ , I promised.  _ I am yours.  _

_ And I am yours _ , he sighed out in relief which felt like a gentle, comforting breeze to me. 

“Take whatever healers you need,” Thesan offered, dipping his head to Varian as a sign of respect. “Rhysand, your General’s wings will need extensive repair.”

“Whatever aid you can spare will be appreciated deeply,” Rhysand said, voice taught. “We will provide a legion of Illyrians to continue protecting the survivors.” Gilah said Cassian had been shot with ash arrows. Rhysand told me that me surviving an ash arrow poisoning for so long was rare, most likely due to Thesan’s healing ability. The fact that Cassian still survived despite the number of bolts he took was nothing short of a miracle. 

“I will go as well,” Tamlin said as Varian, Azriel and I made to leave. Rhysand’s mind rippled against mine like a reminder that maybe I resisted the idea of hurting Tamlin but Rhysand wasn’t so disinclined. 

“Your presence is required-” Tarquin cut off at the murderous look in Tamlin’s eyes. 

“I’ll be seeing to the welfare of the Spring Court fae before sitting through another meeting that wastes my time and kills my people,” he spat. Bold words for someone who couldn’t have cared less about our strategy earlier in the day. 

We walked to the Dawn camp to select healers in silence. Varian, tight-lipped as usual. Tamlin seethed. That left me to bite my tongue. My temper would get the best of me while my sisters and Lucien were in danger and I couldn’t afford to let my magic slip. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhysand and I kept our mental walls open to each other when I left. I sent him updates that he would hear anyway later but I knew it comforted him to hear my voice. When we winnowed, I felt forced to tell him the camp smelled of smoke and iron. Barely a single tent remained standing, most trampled by the slaughter. 

I had to ignore it for the moment in favor of finding my remaining court. We three led the healers through the carnage towards the survivors. They all clustered together, holding each other tightly. I picked out Cassian first. His wings, once towering and powerful, were drawn in and close to his body. Like an animal who had been lamed and protected their injury with a vengeance, Cassian guarded access to his back by sitting in front of a tree. His crossed his arms over his knees, staring at the blood on them with detachment. 

Mor knelt beside him with Cresseida, their hands interlocked and squeezing until even Cresseida’s hand bled pale. Both Mor and Cresseida’s hair were stained by grime. I had trained enough of my senses to feel that Cresseida had nearly tapped all of her magical well. All of their faces were long in silent devastation. 

Varian launched himself at the sight of Cresseida, sweeping her up into his arms with complete disregard of all other duties. I gave up the pretense next, deciding that now was not the time for false strength but for grief. Azriel was close on my heels. I ran over to my court, noting how they barely registered our approach, both pairs of eyes glued to Varian and Cresseida. I wrapped my arms around Mor’s neck and brought her close to me, tears already appearing in the corner of my eyes. Her one hand found my elbow, squeezing it with whatever energy she had left. Azriel was quick to hug Cassian, tightly embracing his brother though Cassian could hardly return the vigor. We switched and I cupped a hand around Cassian’s neck and brought his face to my neck. He barely responded. “I was so worried for you both,” I whispered, knowing they’d hear me. My voice choked, “You both could have been killed.” 

“Feyre,” Mor’s voice had me looking over at her. Her golden eyes were red from crying. “Nesta and Elain...Lucien…”

“I know,” I nodded, swallowing through my closing throat. Mor stared at me, mouth open. Tears streamed again from her eyes. “We’ll get them back,” I affirmed, refusing all other talk. I sucked in harshly, rising from my knees. “In the meantime, we brought Thesan’s healers,” I couldn’t dare a glance at Cassian’s wings so closely. The gaping holes that bled and wept was enough to sicken me. Any closer look at the shredded membrane and I’d vomit. 

I waved over the healers. I’d selected Truvia for Cassian’s wings. “We can’t wait to be healed,” Cassian’s voice was raw from screaming. His eyes watched Truvia approach with murderous intent, daring her to touch his wings without permission. She wisely paused by my side. 

Rhysand’s scoff echoed in my mind.

“You can’t fly,” Azriel stared Cassian down. He oversaw the other healer, Alana, as she helped Mor’s pauldron off. 

“It doesn’t matter. The longer we wait, the longer he has them,” Cassian barked back, voice rasping. 

“Cassian’s right,” I nodded. My declaration earned me shocked looks from all around. Even Truvia ducked her head to hide her widened eyes. Cassian glared at Azriel even as both Azriel and Mor gaped at me. “Which is why you aren’t coming.” I followed up with a pointed look at Cassian. 

“Like hell,” he rasped. 

“Until your wings are healed, you’re on bedrest.”

“I can still fight,” he bit back. 

“Perhaps,” I conceded. “But not in your current state. Truvia will heal your wings and then we can revisit this,” I declared. Though Rhysand might have disagreed, I didn’t view myself capable of ordering him around. Cassian would only go off on the mission by himself if he thought it’d save my sisters and Lucien. So instead, I focused on convincing him. “If you try to leave now, you’ll endanger yourself and them further. I know you want them back as much as I do but we can’t afford recklessness.” 

His hard eyes finally softened on mine. He swallowed and looked away, waving Truvia forward. I chose that moment, before the snarling and hissing began, to return to checking the dead. Azriel followed close behind. 

Bodies strewn about, both Hybern’s soldiers and fae citizens. Though I knew my loved ones wouldn’t be among them, I forced myself to scan their faces. I needed to know. I needed to see their faces and commit them to my memory. Gilah said the front line had held but there had been a small unit assigned to kidnapping the humans and killing as many fae as possible. Healers also walked among the dead, trying to find anyone who might still be alive. I knew that was a false hope. Whoever had a chance had been dragged to where the survivors sat in shock. 

I hadn’t seen their faces in the survivors so I owed it to find them in the dead. Where trees had fallen and crushed soldier’s alive and bodies piled high enough to form barriers, I saw Bron. He stood silently on the killing field. As we approached, he froze when he saw me. His eyes sparing a glance at Azriel by my side, eyes falling to truthteller. 

I moved first and crossed the distance, knowing who laid at his feet. It didn’t prepare me anymore for the frozen and pale face of my once-upon-a-time guard. He laid on his back, dark eyes fixed on the lightening sky above. Dawn was close. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut. “My lady,” he bowed his head. Bron’s brown eyes were wells of sorrow. I could hardly look at the black hair on Hart’s head, still neatly combed. 

“Bron,” I bit my lip, sniffling loudly. I wanted to hug him but kept my distance. 

“I couldn’t leave him,” Bron bit his cheek, looking at Hart’s body. I dared a glance. Hart’s neck had been gouged by talons, the skin turned purple around his neck. Coagulated blood welled in his neck wound, attracting flies. His eyes had turned glassy and blueish. Death had transformed the handsome fae into a nightmare. “Not until the dawn came,” he nodded firmly. 

“He will know you did this for him. In the other world.” It was the empty words you spoke to fill the voids left by grief. Just to say something that didn’t leave the world feeling so empty and dark. 

“Your General told us,” he began. “That you opened the Night Court to us. That we’d have a home in your court.” I held my breath. Tears streamed down my face. Azriel had closed into my right side, ready to hold me if I collapsed. I grasped his scarred hand tightly, hoping my hand wasn’t trembling too badly. “Hart wanted to go,” he nodded. “I...I wasn’t so enthusiastic but I’d like to take his ashes there. If it’s alright with you,” he finished in a raw whisper. Loss had stripped away any shyness about insulting me and left the truth bare. 

I reached out my other hand to him. The one that was tattooed from Rhysand’s bargain. He eyed it but took my outstretched fingers in his own. “I’d be honored if you brought Hart to rest in the Night Court.” 

“And the others?” 

I swallowed, feeling the punch knock the air from me. “Others?” 

“Shepard...an ash arrow felled him...by that oak,” he pointed behind me. I thought of the young fae with wild blond curls and patches of freckles. “Oliver too...he tried to pull Shepard back and got hit himself.” 

I couldn’t speak after that. I kept vigil with Bron, watching over Shepard and Oliver. Azriel held my hand tightly as we waited for the approaching dawn. The warm light settled peacefully on the killing field and dewy forest with a peacefulness appropriate for the dead. When the beams of light no longer lit the forest alone, we moved their bodies back to camp. Carried each corpse to be burned and sent off at dusk. Cresseida, Varian and Tamlin joined the solemn task. 

All of Hybern’s soldiers were burned with a torch Azriel carried to each one. No ceremony or respect would be given to them. Most fae spat on them while they burned. I would have joined them had I the energy. 

We couldn’t wait for dusk. We could hardly wait another breath. I only begged my sisters to hold on. So instead, we burned our dead and kept vigil. To my relief, Alis was among the survivors along with her two nephews. She had ran to the woods and they hid among the trees during the carnage. Most of the Urisks had survived that way, making up the majority of the Spring Court survivors.

She had seen me first and all thoughts of betrayal had disappeared. She wrapped her strong arms around my waist and pressed into me, crushing her nephews with her. I held her back, sharing her emotion. “I’ll go with you,” she nodded. “My nephews will too,” she affirmed. “I want you to take them to the Night Court. I...I can wait but they-” 

“Yes,” I breathed out, working one hand into her head of curls. I rubbed her back like she was a child in need of coddling. In a way, we all were. She kept close to my side afterwards, despite Azriel remaining incredibly close. She held my hand while the dead burned. Cassian and Mor had come from the healers looking pale but they stood silently as well, keeping vigil.

During our watch, Cassian turned to me with sorrowful eyes. I looked up to the General, searching them.  _ How can I help?  _ I wanted to ask even though I knew the answer wasn’t something I could give him. “I failed you,” he choked out, voice low and raspy. I barely heard it over the raging flame that crackled and popped. “He has Elain and Lucien. He has  _ Nesta _ . He took her because I couldn’t reach-” 

I cupped his cheek and for once, his skin felt cold to the touch. His shoulder’s slumped, the guilt and loss crushing him. I lifted his chin, forcing his hazel eyes to open and see mine that reflected the flames. “You are not responsible for Hybern’s actions. I cannot watch you blame yourself,” I gave all my strength to my words. “I need to know you’ll help me get them back. I need to know you’ll help me kill the male responsible.” He swallowed, nodding his head. Slowly, his eyes began to burn in a manner not due to the flames. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After we left an entire legion of Illyrian warriors with the survivors, we collected to winnow back to the war camps. We only waited on Varian and Cresseida to return from helping the remaining Summer fae. 

From there, we would make a plan and we would exact it that day. No more waiting. My hands itched by my side. I told my friends from the Spring Court that after we retrieved those taken, we would bring them to the Night Court. That they should remain ready. I didn’t want to leave them alone again. I felt like if I didn’t keep my eyes on them they’d vanish.

Like my sisters. The last time I had seen them, they vanished into the woods and didn’t return.

“You plan to free who Hybern kidnapped?” 

His voice startled me from my fears. Azriel stiffened, a pace away with Mor and Cassian. I turned to face Tamlin, regarding him warily. “Of course,” I said curtly. Azriel’s shadows flicked impatiently in the corner of my eyes. Even Cassian’s anger was enough for a raw heat to lick at my neck. I could feel Rhysand’s mind brushing against mine, silently questioning why mine had become so stiff. 

“Do you not know when to stop sacrificing yourself?” he asked, eyes piercing me. His voice was cold and dripping with disdain. But I didn’t feel my heart pound. I didn’t sweat with nervousness. I gazed at the male I once loved and died for with indifference. No. Not indifference. With pity. 

_ Almost unrecognizable,  _ I thought as I took him in. Possibly for the first time with clear eyes. Perhaps it was my calmness that kept my court from lunging. Mor’s hands tightly clasped each other and I knew her magic, still healthy and full, was begging for release. “For the people I love?” I asked him. “There is no choice in the matter.” 


	72. Feign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

After King Hybern arrived, the gathered crowd dissipated to their respective sinister tasks. Our wooden pen remained quietly ignored for the morning. For the most part, all dressed in the black, blue and gold of Hybern, they looked relatively similar to our war camps. They trained in sparring rings and had mess tents set up all over the Spring Court lawn. The largest difference being that they kept penned up fae and humans for torture. Though they left the humans untouched. I wasn’t naive to think that was a good thing. I felt like a lamb strapped to a sacrificial alter. 

I couldn’t see the kidnapped fae but I could hear them: screaming, moaning and crying. Their pen was centered in a stone fortress with large iron gates. Rose bushes lined the pathway that led to them and I found I hated roses even more so. Our wooden pen was just across from it but from where I sat, the inside was blessedly hidden from view. After watching them flay Lucien, I couldn’t handle much else. I could hardly look in Lucien’s direction and lay eyes on his limp form. 

Once the first slash of the whip had torn open his back, Elain dissolved into sobs. She would have screamed had I not covered her mouth, gritting my teeth as she bit me. I whispered so coldly into her ear that if they heard her, it would be worse for him and they wouldn’t ignore her. Elain had pushed her face so hard against my sternum, it hurt. She’d tried her best to cover her sobs but only after dawn had her loud sniffles finally quieted. Now she laid against me, still as death. I almost preferred that she cried to the shell that barely clung to me anymore. 

I couldn’t look anywhere without seeing the despair; not to the fae, Elain or humans who shared my cage. All the humans had the same desperate and cornered look on their faces. They all whimpered and cried. Even Garysen who had proudly declared himself unfazed by the fae now cowered. I hated them for it. They made me want to join in on their helplessness and I refused it. I’d resolve myself to death but Hybern would not break me. 

Accepting death went hand-in-hand with understanding that maybe they weren’t coming. The further the sun crept into the sky, the more I realized that it was likely. Hybern had surprised the entire war effort by bringing down the Wall, conquering the Human Realm, and then setting fire to the Spring Court. He had always been one step ahead. Ambushing the refugee camp was just another step in the plan that the rest of the High Lords had been attempting to understand since the beginning of the war. They likely had no idea where we had been taken. 

I had no doubt Feyre wouldn’t stop looking until she found us. Or Cassian. They would keep trying but the longer it took, the more likely they’d find bones in our places. We’d be another set of bones in mass graves. 

I decided that if they weren’t coming soon then maybe it was time to find a way to escape. I studied rotations of the guards for the morning, attempting to correlate positions of the sun with which guard. I tried to mark their appearance and behavior. If one was leering at us or if they seemed entirely bored. Which one I could take advantage of and which would kill me for trying. Keeping all the information sorted was the challenge. Along with avoiding looking at Lucien who was still dangling outside, reminding me what failure at escape meant. 

As it turned out, I didn’t need to find a way out. The creature opened the door for me. It’s dark wings cast a shadow over the cage as it strode for the door. It’s large ears twitched back and forth. The wooden pen for all the humans was latched and that creature could operate a lock to my surprise and horror. Once I saw it, I shoved Elain away from me and told her to keep her cloak over her head. She trembled but that made her blend in more with the other humans. The creature’s nose made a snuffling noise, lifting it’s head to taste the air. It’s narrow eyes locked on me at once. “Human,” it crooned, beckoning me forward with a single clawed finger. 

I moved before Elain could realize it referred to me. I walked to meet the creature at the door, praying she kept silent until the monster left. Sighs of relief echoed from the others as I passed. I stopped at the cage door, not daring to step out without the creature’s permission. I could not command a battle like Cassian; I was subject to this thing in front of me. I tactically kept my lips clamped shut. “You’ve learned your place, human,” it grinned, one clawed hand wrapping around my bicep to drag me along. My back barked out in pain and the cut on my calf reopened because my leg felt wet again. 

A million questions flew through my mind but they were all drowned out by the numbing knowledge that Elain was alone. Wherever I was going didn’t matter and what happened to me didn’t matter. Elain was alone in that cage and had no one to protect her. Elain with the sweet voice and tender touch. Who cried when she found dead birds in her garden and buried them under her forsythia bushes so they’d be remembered. Whose heart is sewn to her sleeve and so very exposed to the world. I begged the Mother above that every soldier in this camp ignore her for as long as it took for me to get back to her side. 

I clenched my fists tightly.  _ I would get back to her.  _ I didn’t care if I couldn’t fly or swing a sword or command armies or wield magic. I’d do it. 

I was partially led and partially dragged into the Spring Manor, taken through the winding halls and into a Great Room with a long table meant to serve a hundred guests. At the table, a fae male sat. His nose and cheeks were red like he drank too many glasses of wine but the rest of the skin was pale as death. His hair was long and streamed in inky waves past his shoulders. A golden crown sat on his head which was my only indication that the male in front of me was the King of Hybern. 

He reclined in the throne-like wooden chair. His hands clutched that the armrests like I had threatened to steal his seat. He wore a fine blue doublet with golden trim. A black leather belt slung low across his hips with a sword sheathed. The creature only shoved me forward and the King regarded me with aloofness. “This is the human who looks like the Cursebreaker,” the creature introduced, voice keening to my ears. 

The King breathed in slowly, eyes lighting with vague interest. He stared at me, examining everything from my bloody dress to the hair that had been pulled from my braid. Releasing a sigh, “There is a rumor that Feyre Archeron has two human sisters.” He continued to monitor me, flaring his nostrils slightly. His ears flicked to catch my heart beat. “The Attor has personally seen her and he says you look  _ just  _ like her,” he smiled, licking his lips. 

I could taste how much this male wanted me to confirm his question.  _ Are you her sister? Have we captured Feyre’s sisters?  _ He watched me raptly, eyes flicking over me like I’d turned to gold. 

But I had practice in this game. I’d been shielding away my emotions all my life. I’d convinced my father I hated him that I had nearly convinced myself. I’d driven my sister away with my cold exterior. But my real masterpiece was making Cassian believe I’d rather be alone than with him for the rest of my years. 

So when Hybern studied me I did not falter. I trembled as he expected. I made my shoulder’s hunch and I took to Elain’s habit of fidgeting. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. Without pause, I stammered, “Who?”

His face fell flat and his eyes swung to the Attor, accusing. “She lies,” it hissed, grabbing my arm and wrenching it until the cry wrought from my lips was real. “They look too similar.” Even still, it’s eyes searched my face to seek out inconsistencies. 

“Human. What’s your name?” the King asked. His continued glowering aimed at the Attor told me I had done a good enough job.  _ Good _ , I thought,  _ kill your cowering servant _ .  _ Bring me back to my sister you idiot.  _ It had been too long already. 

The name came easily. It was familiar to my tongue after all, “A...Aisling,” I forced a stutter. “Aisling Moore,” I put together. I had to force trepidation into my eyes even as he leaned back in his seat and I knew he believed the lie. If he hadn’t, nothing would stop this male from reveling in his victory. 

“But my King, she looks  _ just  _ like her.” King Hybern snarled. The noise ripped through the room and echoed off the walls and marble floors. I couldn’t find the King’s pupils within his dark eyes. He raised his goblet to his lips and drank deeply, wiping away the red smear of wine off his chin. Some wine stained the front of his tunic. 

“Rhysand would not let his mate’s family go so unsecured. No...he’d squirrel them away. No chinks in his armor,” the King reasoned, shaking his head.  _ I’d like to see him try _ , I quipped to myself. The Attor pulled on my arm, harder than before. He obviously hadn’t appreciated me taking away his shining moment. I hoped we were going back to the cage, back to Elain. But the King of Hybern stopped our movement with a steady, “We can still use her.” He waved me to the table and the Attor forced me to take a seat two down from the King. Despite the table partially shielding me from view, I felt more exposed to him. I kept still. 

He called in another servant. Another groveling fool for me to hate. I thought by now that they would have tortured or assaulted me but the male only sat across from me. He laid a piece of paper on the table and began to draw. It took only a few broad strokes for me to realize he was taking my portrait. He finished and showed the King of Hybern. The King only motioned for the painter to show the Attor. “Her face is less...sharp,” the Attor replied. “Her eye are softer.” 

They continued to go back and forth. The painter would draw me with charcoal and the Attor would tailor until the drawing resembled Feyre. I didn’t have to wonder too long at the purpose of these antics. Once the Attor was satisfied that the artist had captured Feyre’s likeness, he showed the King once more. The King stared at the portrait with hate-filled eyes. I wished Feyre had killed more of Hybern’s Generals. I wished she continued to afflict this male like an illness.  _ Plague his fucking fields _ , I begged my sister silently. 

The King nodded at the drawing after the long pause. “Copy it and distribute it. I want every soldier to burn the bitches face into their memory. She’ll be ours soon enough but it’d be easier if we just take her,” he bobbed his head as he spoke. His fingers played with his bottom lip. “I want them to identify her by her fucking fingernails and prepared to shoot her on sight.” 

I kept my eyes on my hands in my lap. My trembling wasn’t a part of a larger act anymore. As he spoke, I feared for my youngest sister too. If he reached us when we were separated by land and so thoroughly hidden then Feyre was within his grasp too. 

“Would you want her dead or alive?” the Attor licked it’s lips, it’s tongue was purple and slick. Long and roughly textured to suit licking the meat off of bones. 

Hybern refilled his goblet. He leaned back in his chair, finger dancing at the rim. “I want her alive. But if she dies then at least I have succeeded in killing Rhysand’s prized mate. It’ll be like a coin toss. We will let fate settle the score.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Attor dragged me away after. The clouds had opened up and a steady rain drenched me on my walk back. The water trailing down my back stung my open wounds. I tried not to think what it meant if they were still bleeding. Or if they got infected.

Not until the creature threw me into the wooden cage and walked away did I find Elain. She leaned on the cage’s walls, tucked behind her cloak. When I sat down next to her, she didn’t react. She only clutched the edges of her cloak tighter around her. “They thought I was some girl’s sister...a Feyre,” I told her, raising the hood of my cloak over my head. I carefully reclined into the walls, hissing at the contact but relishing the clarity of mind. I was sure I had been dragged out of the cage to die and now that I was back, I felt like I’d won something. Victory flooded my system. “I was terrified. But I told them my name was Aisling Moore.” 

Elain stilled, recognizing the name. Her mind snapped to the reality of the situation. If they found out who we were, we were as good as dead. “We don’t have a third sister, Aisling,” she raised her cloak, peering out at me from within. Oddly, she hadn’t been crying. 

“I know Ripleigh. I know,” I adopted my mother’s maiden name with ease. Elain took her sister. The aunt Feyre never took care of. 

Elain peered out of the cage, eyes scanning over the camp. Fear laced her eyes but she looked calm. “They took the fae down,” she said. I struggled to keep my head from searching out Lucien’s body.  _ Was he not still hanging at the whipping post?  _ “They gave him some drink and dragged him to that cage.” 

_ He was alive?  _ I struggled to coincide the limp body with any form of life but came up empty. But I took it eagerly. He wasn’t dead. If he had survived them tearing the skin from his bones then we could survive these cages. “He must be stronger than he looks,” I nodded thoughtfully. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In that camp, no feeling of victory could be too permanent. The soldiers outside began assembling platforms. Crowds came together. The silence had given way to raucous cheers, spits were set up over campfire, and mead or ale became free flowing. As the sun descended in the sky, the celebration grew in boldness and barbarism. Fae women and males were passed around like goblets of mead for the entertainment of the soldiers. The clinking of their chains was just as loud as the soldier’s laughter. The peak of their craze came when the King of Hybern joined them, flanked by several heavily decorated soldiers I assumed to be his other Generals. A blonde woman stood out among all them, standing gracefully to the side with admiration gleaming in her eyes at the King. 

“We’ve waited long enough,” the King announced, raising his hands and the crowd’s cheers subsided. The clanking of chains grew in noise. I realized belatedly that those chains weren’t from the enslaved fae. My eyes widened. Several slaves pulled on heavy chains that dragged a platform. Sitting on the platform was the Cauldron. He waved to the Cauldron and the crowd started screaming anew. I was struck by it, unable to tear away my gaze. It emanated power and magic. The metal glowed or emanated both light and darkness; it was difficult to see and yet impossible to ignore. Orange and yellow light spit into the air above it. My skin nearly burned from my proximity, remnants of the Wall falling reminding me how painful magic could be. The Cauldron being the source of all magic appeared just as capable of inflicting that pain. When I finally looked back to the King of Hybern, his eyes looked back into mine. He licked his lips. The light of the Cauldron reflected in his inky eyes. He drew in a deep breath, enjoying the way I shivered as he said, “We have waited long enough for our immortal army.” 


	73. Remade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore warning!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

They took the fae out of their cage first, Lucien blessedly among them though he was dragged out. His eyes were half-awake when they moved him but they were wide by the time the show had ended. 

All the enslaved fae watched as they selected a female at random and threw her into the Cauldron. The fae was swallowed whole. The thing that roared to life from the depths of the Cauldron was not meant to live. The first I saw was a massive hand escape the Cauldron’s surface, light pouring off it’s skin. It’s moan tore at my ears. The two freed arms dragged the rest of the body out to spill out and onto the ground. It’s ribs were so large for the body that the skin stretched and tore at parts. The bones were spindly and long and it now crawled on all four, the joints inverted so it could walk like a spider. It made another groan, jaw clacking together like it was cold. It’s claws dug up the soil where it stood. It trembled, stumbling around but meeting soldiers on all sides with no hope of escape. 

The soldier’s laughed before slicing off two limbs, bringing the monster to the ground. The severed limbs fell with a _slap_ against the wet earth. When the creature fell, another stepped forward to drive their sword through it’s neck. With a sickly wheezing noise, it stopped moving. 

“The Cauldron cannot transform the fae,” Hybern sagely nodded, pretending he commanded the awful power of the Cauldron. “It cannot work with that it has already touched. It needs something fresh.” 

He turned to the humans. 

Once the first human from the cage was selected, I smeared Elain’s face with mud and blood off my calf. I didn’t know what good it would do but the only thing I could think to do was keep her as unremarkable as possible. She didn’t flinch even when I raised my bloody hand to her cheek and smudged it. Her doe eyes were hard when they locked with mine. 

After the grandeur, Hybern and his generals reclined in the large wooden chairs they had brought out for them. Fae slaves stood nearby with a decanter of a dark cherry wine. They barely spoke to one another and instead sipped their wine quietly, waiting for the show to begin. Though I wasn’t fooled into thinking them relaxed: Hybern’s knee bounced slightly while he waited. 

Elain and I clasped hands tightly while the first human was dragged towards the Cauldron, pleading for their life. Through all the noise created that night, all I could hear was their begging. The soldiers barely had to struggle. The human couldn’t even pose a crum of resistance as they lifted him above their heads and dropped him into the pool of light. The Cauldron didn’t splash like a pot of boiling water. The human went in and the Cauldron accepted the offering. One minute they were thrashing and screaming to be let go and the next it was quiet. 

Nothing came back out. The soldiers watched and waited. Hybern and his generals sat back in their seats with disappointment. One general almost pouted. Finally, a body rose to the surface. Elain’s nails pinched my hand but I hardly noticed. They fished the corpses out with a pole that had a hook on the end, gripping the body by the torso. The skin was pale, almost blue, and bloated like they had been dead for a day already. Without ceremony, the corpse was tossed to the side. 

That became the place where they stacked the bodies. It became routine. The soldiers opened the cage, dragged out a human, the human begged and the human died. And repeat. Over and over until the pile stood as tall as the fae and they needed to make a second one. A cycle of screaming and dying. 

“They’re going to take us,” Elain whispered as the pile of bodies grew and the numbers of humans dwindled. Her eyes stared at the bodies. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Nothing would suffice. 

Something inside her had changed. Her eyes weren’t cold but resolved, almost determined. Her lips were firmly set in a thin line. My twenty one year old sister looked like she had aged eighty years in the span of a night. Fatigue settled on her shoulders and she released a puff of breath in the cold Spring air. She covered my hand with her own and looked at me. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” I replied, the words coming before I gave them permission. In the moment, it was reflexive to tell her I loved her. I sat frozen while she rose from her knees and waded through the humans to the door of the cage. My body caught up with my screaming mind. I launched to my feet and pushed after her. I struggled to reach her because every human resisted being moved nearer the door. Their bodies slammed into mine, crying out to be left alone. I weaseled through, thrusting them away with all my strength. But Elain was already steps ahead of me. So when the door swung open and she stepped forward, I watched helplessly as they pulled her towards the Cauldron. 

And then I was thrashing to the cage wall, watching my younger sister walk towards her certain death. Tears were streaming. I might have yelled. She stepped dutifully in time to her captors. Her hair was unbraided and blowing in the wind. Another scream sounded in the night that wouldn’t be answered. My eyes trained on her. She held her shoulders back, perfect posture. Her hands were still at her sides. No fidgeting tonight. Her face was stoic beneath the dirt and blood. Her eyes were glazed. The Cauldron spat out light like a greeting. She trembled. 

She glanced back at me. Then towards the fae and I know she found Lucien but I couldn’t tear my eyes off my sister. Not as they picked her up like a bride, raising her above their heads and dropping her into the Cauldron’s awaiting arms. 

I released an ear-piercing scream.

She disappeared beneath the surface and my chest lurched. I couldn’t breathe. My heart wouldn’t restart. I was going to die. It hardly mattered anymore. The night was silent except for the swarm of my thoughts, echoing  _ Elain...Elain...Elain... _

A hand reached out from the Cauldron, waving wildly. One of the soldiers who held the hook for fishing bodies froze at the edge. The camp gasped. Another male grabbed the hand, ripping the body from the Cauldron. I begged it was Elain. I begged it wasn’t her. Finally, the Cauldron spilled over as the body came tearing out of the water and onto the earth below. Orange and yellow light saturated the form, making my eyes squint. But I recognized my sister. She was wordless on the ground while her chest heaved, only vomiting up more light. She glanced around her, confusion evident. Every human trait had been wiped and replaced with that of a fae. Starting with her pointed ears to the willowy appearance of her arms and legs. But instead of looking stronger, she was delicate like the Cauldron crafted her from glass. 

Hybern’s eyes feasted on my sister, alive with glee. If he recognized her face, it didn’t show. “And we have our first Cauldron-born fae,” he announced, cheers roaring from the crowd. Elain shuddered at the noise, eyes wide in fear. “Take her to the cells,” Hybern smiled, jerking his chin towards the manor. She didn’t hear him. She only stared at the soldiers that grabbed her like she’d never seen a fae before. Her lips parted in question. 

Another scream. This time I recognized it as Lucien’s. I searched him out in the fae crowd, finding him by the gleam of his copper hair. His eyes were frantic while Elain was taken towards the manor. He strained so hard against the chains at his wrists, feet and neck that his skin turned red. The soldiers only kicked his jaw, knocking his head back. But he continued to writhe until one had to put a foot on his back to keep him pinned chest-down on the ground.

My feet moved before I could. Something about the determination in my shoulders made the others part before me. Struggling was useless here, the only thing that ruled was fate. I recognized Graysen in the crowd. We shared a glance. I turned away to stand before the door, drawing my shoulders back. Hybern could throw me in that Cauldron but he’d never have me. I’d either die or be Made as fae. When faced with those choices, the decision was easy. 

I needed to protect Elain. I needed to kill Hybern. And that Cauldron was going to give me what I needed to do so. 

I hardly noticed the soldiers that grabbed me and the subsequent pain in my back and calf. My eyes focused on the sides of the Cauldron that swallowed all light but emanated a radiant white light too. The surface swirled with warm colors. As I got closer, I felt the heat. My skin began to sweat under my clothes. My back leaked more blood. 

Maybe it was the fever of infection or desperation in my blood. It could have been my fears for Elain or my hatred of Hybern. Or maybe it was because fate had a hand in my creation. But when the soldiers threw me into the Cauldron, I ignored my body’s protest and inhaled the magic. I was submerged in pain. My skin screamed all over but I breathed it in. I kept my head clear and forced my body to take more. My body might have burned away for all I knew, leaving my mind in the Cauldron’s embrace. 

I knew that would not be the case. My bones separated, broke and rejoined. My skin and muscles stretched to accommodate what magic I took in. When I couldn’t breathe in anymore, I began to scream. But I kept taking. Everywhere the magic touched me, I pulled it into me. I’d take everything and accept nothing less. My new body would be strong enough for it.

When my body had stopped tearing itself into pieces, I lifted my head to what I thought was the surface. The Cauldron clung to me though, attempting to pull me back. I wrenched myself from it’s gravity and launched myself out of the Cauldron. The world heaved. I was falling and I took the Cauldron with me. I spilled out of it’s mouth and onto the ground. The light of the Cauldron was no longer blinding. I barely saw it anymore. My eyes focused instead on the male in front of me. I stared at Hybern with murderous intent even as the soldier’s righted the Cauldron and dragged me away.


	74. Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gross and gorey descriptions in this chapter, please be advised.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

We stood leagues north of the Spring Manor when we finally encountered Hybern’s wards. Not all wards are created equal. There are wards that can be raised like the sound barrier Morrigan or Rhys uses so frequently. Wards like that are only a manifestation of the person’s magic and if another is strong enough, they can punch through another’s magic. 

True wards are barriers that function independently of their caster. They require sacrifice and a significant amount of magic to raise. The fae breathes enough energy into the ward until it can stand on its own, like a living and breathing person. The Wall was a ward. The magic that runs the caves to Under the Mountain is a series of wards. Helion did not get his name by breaking through the small sound barriers a fae casts. He’d brought down wards surrounding enemy encampments in the War and all without the enemy noticing, making them lambs for slaughter.

I don’t know why I was surprised then when Feyre brought down Hybern’s ward like she was opening the front door to her own home. Especially since her magic was stronger in the Solar Courts. But the ward didn’t fall gracefully, swept away in the wind. Rhysand asked her to shatter it like breaking a window pane. Where Feyre’s hand touched the ward, large beams of yellow light split away as it fractured. Watching her break Hybern's wards reminded me of the night the Wall fell down. 

By breaking Hybern’s wards and not slipping through them undetected, we hoped to send Hybern the message.  _ Flee. Helion and the rest of the army is at your gates.  _ We couldn’t take the entirety of Hybern’s forces. The High Lords were already stretched thin by our actions in the Spring Court, hunting down the troops and the ambush on the refugees only pushed them towards inaction. They wanted time to regroup. It wasn’t their people and inner circle who had almost been slaughtered. So they wouldn’t back this mission into Hybern’s camp. Tarquin and Tamlin's fae had been killed but none of them taken. Tamlin only showed how completely he had banished Lucien by not blinking when Lucien was announced as enslaved. 

Instead, we made due with the five of us. We borrowed the presence of their armies. Make Hybern think we were there and when the camp falls into formation, our small group slips in. They’ll be watching for an army and we’ll be slipping in the back door. 

So once Feyre shattered the ward, Rhysand winnowed Feyre, Mor, and I directly into their camp. Azriel was gone in the shadows, setting up explosives in the woods. He’d create the initial panic. Guaranteeing us only five minutes of absolute chaos for us to find Nesta, Elain and Lucien and get out. 

Rhysand and I would winnow to the cages and Mor would winnow with Feyre into the manor. She’d been shot with an ash arrow and faebane only a night before but had access to her magic by midday. Rhysand told her to stay back but once it became apparent that Feyre couldn’t winnow, Mor had her ticket to attend. Though after watching Feyre break a ward without so much a sweat, I was confused at how winnowing was a skill she hadn’t yet mastered. It had seemed effortless to me but of course, I’ve never winnowed. Azriel could but really he just stepped into shadows. He could only appear where shadows formed. 

Feyre and Rhys took one look at each other before Mor winnowed her out of sight. “Do you smell that?” I asked. I shouldn’t have bothered asking. The smell was pervasive. Rot and mold settled heavily in the damp Spring air. The camp was noisy as soldiers began to form up and Rhysand pulled on his darkness to hide us, dampening his power and presence. Without the magic, he became more solid looking. Less like a fae and more Illyrian. He would have had his wings out if they didn't immeadiately draw the eye. 

My nose had been seeking out Nesta’s scent since she was taken. It was a force of habit. Reflexively, I looked for her even when I knew she wasn’t there. But with all the rot, I couldn’t find her scent. I maybe detected Elain’s flowery one but that could have been all the flowers from the woods. There was too much magic in the air that all my senses felt frazzled. I had never tested my siphons against raw magic but I guess tonight was that night. 

It was one hell of a night for everything to go to shit. Couldn’t rely on my senses, my siphons or my wings. 

The only confidence I had was that I could still swing my swords and I’d hack my way to Nesta if I had to. My lungs hadn’t drawn a single easy breath since she was taken. All I could recall was her calm face as the Attor winnowed her out of sight. The acceptance in her steel eyes and the set of her lips, nodding to me like she was okay with it. Even with her blood coating her and the Attor handling her like cattle. She had told me this might come and when it happened, she recognized it for what it was: fate. 

When I closed my eyes, I saw her right before she was taken. 

I refused to believe that her scent had permanently vanished from the world so I continued to seek her out. 

As soon as the soldiers had formed up, they lined in positions at the edge of the Spring Court territory. Rows upon rows of soldiers stood, waiting for an army that would never come. For the first time, we were seeing the true might of Hybern’s army that covered the entire Spring Manor and stretched leagues south. I wanted to fight them all. Attack them while they had their backs turned to us. They had ambushed and slaughtered our citizens and soldiers alike that it was justice to do the same to them. 

It didn’t take long for Azriel’s explosions to turn their neat formation into chaos. The first one had lit the forest on fire a league or two north. It was detonated on it’s own, the boom echoing off the hills and leaving absolute silence in its wake. The crackle and snap of trees on fire slowly rising to a crescendo after a moment. When all their heads had turned to watch the blaze, smoke billowing into the night sky, Azriel had set off the second one right behind them. A few troops burned up immediately. Others were injured as their screams echoed but were cut off by the rapid succession of explosions that ensued afterward. They expected to meet face to face with the army of all Courts, not once thinking they could be ambushed themselves like they had done to us.

It was then Rhysand and I moved. We traded between winnowing across the camp and sneaking between shadows. Using magic in this place was a risk that might give us away since we had no idea how capable Hybern was. We knew we moved in the right direction because the air got brighter. It smelled so clean it nearly burned my nostrils. Underneath that clean scent was the cloying smell of rot. I was reminded of the cleaning solution used to prepare corpses for their last rite. The Cauldron was near and so was death. I tucked my wings in tighter. 

Soldiers sprinted around as the woods and camp began to explode. Large flames engulfing entire trees and rows of tents. Guards left their posts, rushing to join the fray. Azriel’s five minute window started now. 

We winnowed into the shadow created by large stone walls that used to house Tamlin’s rose garden. The famous place he dedicated to his mother’s memory and by Feyre’s account, his personal place of solace. It had now become the pen for all the fae captives Hybern held. The walls were so damn high and barred by wrought iron gates. Each fae inside wore shackles on their hands and ankles. I had no doubt that Hybern dosed each fae with faebane morning, noon and night to ensure they wouldn’t become an issue.

When we turned to look into the cage, my eyes caught on something pale in the moonlight. My heart sank. Nausea swept over me. I had found the source of the rotting smell. I grabbed Rhys’s shoulder, forcing him to look away from the pen and towards the pile of corpses. He stilled. The both of us forgot our tasks at the horror that struck us. 

All stacked on one another like fish at a market were humans with sunken cheeks and faces like they’d spent weeks in captivity instead of a night. All with unseeing eyes of pale blue and open mouths, parted in a silent scream. A platform was erected nearby with several wooden chairs set out, like a gathering of ghosts. My mind scattered. I was consumed by the thought of Nesta. Dull screaming in the back of my mind. Failure wracked my bones and nearly made me tremble where I stood. I choked on a sound between a sob and scream.  _ No. You can’t be there. Not you.  _

I tried not to search further. I was sure if Nesta was there I would never be able to forget her face but I forced myself to. I had long ago accepted that I was tied to her now. I was bound to follow that woman in life and in death; I wouldn’t let her meet the dawn alone. 

Each face was torture. As I searched, they all turned into hers. Each of them with her calm eyes and accepting look, telling me she knew this was coming.  _ Because it will end and end painfully _ , she had declared to me. She had been so determined that night when she told me we could never be more than strangers to each other. Her chin set firmly as she laid out the road ahead of us.

But she didn’t fool me then and hadn’t fooled me when the Attor took her. She might be able to resolve herself to her destiny outwardly but I knew she still resisted it in the end. She had pushed me away with her words and body but her eyes begged me to stay. They told me not to leave her. 

She had run from the Attor, rejecting captivity. Only when she knew she was trapped had she got that sad look in her eyes. That sorrow that whispered  _ but this is the only way it could ever be.  _

Nesta kept fighting and so I forced myself to keep looking for her. But she wasn’t there. Neither was Elain. I wanted to thank the Mother for her mercy but that struck a new fear in me.  _ What if they weren’t here?  _

My thoughts were interrupted by Rhysand’s exhale. “Lucien,” his eyes were fixed on the only head of copper hair inside. I followed his gaze. Lucien barely stirred, laying in the mud in a dark brown tunic. 


	75. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note disturbing topics are discussed in this chapter. 
> 
> I had written this entire chapter listening to 'A Pain That I'm Used to' by Depeche Mode (careful, it's a little loud in the beginning) and I want you all to know that it made even **me** feel nervous and I know where the chapter goes. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:  
**

The Spring Manor was a ghost of it’s former self. All the color bled from it’s walls while Hybern was in residence. Family portraits taken from the walls and whatever heirlooms either smashed or pillaged. Furniture used for kindling or so beyond repair that I hardly recognized the once-fine pieces. It was hard to believe a little over a month ago I had been the Lady to these halls. 

A lot of things were hard to believe now. 

I swallowed my apprehension of entering the manor to focus on finding my sisters. We had debated where they would be kept and came to two possibilities. If Hybern recognized them as my sisters, they’d be kept close. Not a single member of my inner circle had dared to elaborate. Rhysand's face was strained, hand holding my shoulder. I knew what Hybern would do if he had my sisters and knew their identity. He had tortured, raped and murdered his way through the southern half of Prythian. My sisters would not be spared. But if they somehow had evaded detection, they’d be with the remaining humans. As the only fae who had walked the Spring Manor frequently and knew it’s design, I was to lead that search. 

It was now up to me to see where in the manor they would be. I decided they’d be kept in the dungeons, probably the only place I had never explored after my time Under the Mountain. I had no fear of the darkness. Before I knew I was Rhysand’s mate, I thought this strange. That it was not the absence of light that terrified me but being locked away, without windows and doors, that shook me to my bones. I realized now whenever the sky was shut away, my nerves heightened. 

My body felt electric when we descended the stairs into the dungeons. All my fears were coming out to play and I stuffed them back down. It only took one thought of my sisters chained to keep me going. I had thought my time Under the Mountain would leave me the only Archeron scarred. I was wrong on that front. I refused to let them join me in losing my life too. 

When a series of fast explosions began, guards ran from their posts. We ran towards the dungeon entrance then, not being able to winnow directly into them. The air smelled damp. If I breathed deeply, I could still smell the roses in the air. Our footsteps scraping on the stone staircase echoed. We had five minutes. We couldn’t afford to sneak so quietly we made no noise. 

It turned out not all the guards had left their posts. If they recognized me or Morrigan, we didn’t know. We didn’t give them the chance to. No shouts came from their throats either. It was easy enough to drive my sword through their necks. Morrigan let me slaughter as many as I wanted, standing just behind me. I wanted them all dead. For the first time, their hot blood spatter on my skin felt similar to relief. I wanted my sisters back. I could justify many crimes for Nesta and Elain.

We didn’t bother dragging the bodies out of sight. We needed to move. The dungeons were a series of winding passages and we needed to search them all. I extended my senses. A glimmer of a heartbeat was all I needed. Something dripped in the distance and I couldn’t focus on anything else. I kept pushing.  _ Something, give me something.  _

_ We found Lucien _ , Rhysand informed me. His voice tight. He had not found Nesta and Elain then.  _ We have the enslaved fae.  _

_ Morrigan will winnow us out then _ , I replied, not accepting that I would be leaving without my sisters. If Lucien was here, they would be too. I told myself this despite the lack of all logic and the odds against it. 

My magic bristled. My mind reeled from the conversation, perking at the feeling. Magic was assaulting my senses. _Had Hybern kept them locked with wards?_ I blessed my luck that my magic was attuned to the Day Court. I'd break all the damn wards I needed to. I heard a scraping noise. Then the clank of chains. My eyes met Morrigan’s. We took off again, seeking out the source. Magic pricked my skin. The hair on my body stood on end. Another shift. We turned a corner. The sensation grew. 

We almost ran by the source. Our feet skidded to a halt. A prison cell was cast in absolute darkness but I saw the grey cloak with black fur trim, soaked. Nesta was curled against the wall. Her hair was sopping wet and unbound, curling on the ground around her. It was pin straight and darker than I'd ever seen it before. Her pale hand was pressed against the wall, nails scraping over the stone when it twitched to life. I could hear her teeth chattering. She was so very still. All her slight jerks were so fast, at direct odds to how frozen the rest of her body was. 

“Nesta,” I whispered. Her head snapped to us. Her lips pulled back in a near hiss. I don’t know what took me back more: her fae ears or her eyes that glowed orange before fading away into their steel grey. I sucked in a breath. _Nesta was fae._ My human sister had been Made. The soaked cloak made sense. The lore had said fae were created from humans. The Cauldron had turned my sister fae. I choked out, “Help me get the door off.” 

Morrigan didn’t reply. I turned to her to snap but she was frozen too. Her eyes staring at the cage behind me. Elain was laying on the stone floor on her back. Her ears also ended in the delicate tips of the fae. Her skin had the luminescent glow of the fae too but it made her look like glass. She’d shatter at the slightest provocation. 

_ I had been too late _ . My sisters had their human lives taken from them already. _They were fae now._

“Morrigan. You can winnow us to the Night Court?” I asked her, eyes still drawn to Elain. She didn’t move when I spoke. Hardly reacted, not a single twitch. She’d been tossed in her cell and had remained lifeless. I barely saw her chest moving. Her hands didn't stir at her sides. Even as we spoke, her ears didn't twitch to catch our words. Wherever her mind was, it was far from my reach. I could just barely comfort myself knowing she was alive. 

“Yes,” she breathed out, tears streaming out of her eyes. 

I prevented myself from joining her. If I broke now, I'd never be able to put all the pieces back together. They knew the risks, accepted them and I had _let them._ I, who knew exactly what cruelty the fae were capable of, had allowed this to happen. “Help me get the door off then,” I nodded firmly. We took either side of the iron doors and pulled hard. The doors refused to give at first but a large squeal preceded the loud  _ crack  _ when they snapped off the hinges. Then the even louder roar of noise as we tossed them aside. 

_ I found my sisters _ , I told Rhysand. I kept my mind shut to my mate. I couldn’t process what was so blatantly laid before me. I wouldn’t until we were safe and I could scream alone to myself.  _ We will meet you in Velaris.  _ Whatever objection he might had had, he kept to himself. We could sense each other's shock and neither of us had yet found ways to share it with each other just yet. 

Morrigan tentatively dragged Elain’s immobile body into her arms. Elain didn’t respond. She kept limp, even as she was pressed to Morrigan’s chest. Nesta groaned though. Her eyes wide in distrust as Morrigan cradled Elain. When I neared Nesta, I reached out a hesitant hand. “Nesta, please,” I whispered. Azriel’s five minutes were long since past. Her eyes screamed at me but she kept still. I picked her up, noting how much longer her limbs had become. Her fae fingers were willowy. Where Elain became softer, Nesta had been honed sharper. 

I knew my sister was in pain, though I didn’t know the source, because she never would have agreed to me carrying her. She whimpered slightly at the contact. Her face swallowed in a grimace. I cradled her close, pressing my lips to her forehead. Her skin was cold to the touch so I kept my lips there, hoping I could press all my warmth and love into the single, pathetic gesture. “You’re free,” I told her. 

Morrigan and I ran back the way we came. My arms pressed Nesta so close to my chest to keep her from jostling. I might have been hurting her with my strength but I couldn't convince my muscles to release. My need to protect her had taken away my senses. 

Whatever chaos Azriel had created had given us the privacy we needed. Our feet were barely past the threshold of the dungeon stairs and Morrigan reached out, clasping my wrist to send us winnowing to Velaris. 


	76. Envision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

Lucien’s tunic hadn’t been brown. It was soaked in the stale blood from his back. We hadn’t realized this until Rhysand had winnowed Azriel and I, along with the entire enslaved fae populace back to Velaris. 

He couldn’t winnow all the refugees directly to the House of Wind so he had Amren clear out an artist community center. Amren lowered the wards, allowing him access, and he brought all forty seven injured fae across the entire continent. We appeared to an army of healers prepared to receive us with Amren directing them in a clipped tone. She stood in a simple grey cropped tunic and loose pants and still looked opulent compared to the state of all the refugees. 

The scent of blood and grime was overpowering to me. Any healer not seeing a patient was preparing the cots with gauze, bedsheets and pillows. Others were preparing concoctions for sterilizing and anesthetizing. The smell of Sleeproot tea and hints of licorice tinted the air in minutes. Food would need to be next. 

My eyes landed on a team of healers that stood where Lucien had been laying. Though I wanted to stay out of their way, curiosity and nerves pushed me forward. I inched cautiously through the crowd. Two healers knelt by his side and upon closer inspection, I realized his shirt had been white. It was dried blood that had stained the entire doublet brown. Whatever wound he had under his shirt had soaked all his clothes. 

Lucien hadn’t been unconscious but immobile, trembling uncontrollably. His jaw clenched tightly. “We need to carry him to a cot. He’s slipped into shock,” one of the healers said. “General, if you would help,” the fae looked to me, his eyes wide with fear but duty keeping him mobile. 

I nodded rapidly, helping to raise him by his shoulders. He moaned at the contact. “Just a little longer, Lucien,” I replied, trying my best to keep him steady. We eased him onto the cot and one healer’s fingers tentatively rolled away Lucien’s shirt. No skin remained underneath but instead raw muscle and the white of bone. Before I saw the slice marks at the edges of the wound, it looked like they had taken a knife and gouged out his muscle by hand. I swallowed. “You’ll be alright, Lucien,” I nodded, more to myself. 

I never thought I’d care for an Autumn Court fae but here I was, choking over the life of the last son of High Lord Beron. 

“Prepare a mug of sleeproot tea,” the healer called. He stripped off Lucien’s clothes with small knives, preparing boiling water and poultice for the next step. 

“If we give him sleeproot we might kill him,” another replied. 

“If he is conscious when we apply the drush root, he might die of shock,” the healer replied with a clinical coldness. The assembly of healers all stared at each other, eyes struggling. Would they make what could be the last moments of his life miserable? “Then give him a sip of the tea,” the healer consented, sighing out. 

I took the mug out of one of their hands. “I’ll do it. He’s my friend,” I assured, kneeling by Lucien’s head. His head leaned on the side so his mechanical eye was facing me. When I came near, he flinched. His eye searched out mine. “I have sleeproot tea, Lucien,” I swallowed through my hesitation. I didn’t want this tea to slow his heart and kill him but I wouldn’t tell the male to suffer anymore. He stared back at me. I pushed the cup towards him. 

“No,” he mumbled back. His voice was low. His hands fisted in the white sheets, almost white themselves. His brilliant copper hair had lost it’s luster, the shine had faded. His magic was draining itself to keep him alive. 

“Lucien,” I sighed. I didn’t want to force it down his throat. I didn’t think he’d survive the struggle. I had to wonder though how badly I’d underestimated him. At every turn he had surprised me and my court. He protected Nesta and Elain to his own detriment, in the face of Tamlin’s rage. He survived the dangerous existence of a male with undeclared loyalty, not a common position when Court rivalries had started wars before. Especially even more rare given his proximity to Feyre; as Lady of the Night Court, unmixed loyalty from her court was a requirement. And now Lucien had survived being taken prisoner by the King of Hybern. He’d struggled to live even after being flayed down to the bone; he was stronger than I gave him credit for. 

“Whe...where?” he stuttered, body shakes getting more violent. Clarification wasn’t necessary. Loyalty was in his bones. Even on what very likely could be his death bed, he was asking after his charges. 

“General, give him the tea,” one healer urged. 

“Hold on,” I begged them. They hissed back, beginning to tentatively wipe away dirt off his skin. He shuddered at the contact. His trembles increased. The bed shook a little. The healers were getting anxious. “Feyre and Mor went after them-”

His head shook, he clenched his eyes shut and groaned. “W…’ere is my mate?” 

I froze in my crouch, staring at the dark tea in my hand. “Safe,” I spoke before I knew the truth. I needed it to be true just as much as he did. Only then did he accept the sleeproot tea and drop off. 

What I had teased Lucien at had been so much more. I didn’t question the validity. Feyre had been human when she met Rhysand. It wasn’t unthinkable Elain also was Lucien’s mate. Though I questioned how Lucien had felt the mating bond when Elain had no magic. Could humans have mates now? The mating bond was fate and humans weren’t above the workings of destiny; even still, the mating bond was a piece of magic. It needed magic to appear.  _ Maybe it only needed Lucien’s magic _ , I thought. 

My thoughts of Lucien and Elain drained away when I thought of Nesta. If Feyre and Elain had mates, did Nesta too? Would I find some male chasing after Nesta with a Mating Claim? My heart stuttered at the thought. The Code of the Fae prevented mates from being forcibly separated. If the male was from a different Court, Nesta would be required to obey those laws as well. In theory, the mating bond could be rejected. But we all knew the truth. Those in power were rarely accustomed to being told  _ no _ . 

Selfish and greedy for information, I wished Lucien had been in a state to answer all my questions. Namely,  _ what happened?  _

I needed to find Feyre. Wherever she was, Nesta and Elain were. I couldn’t wait any longer. My mind and body were going to tear themselves to shreds if I was left to wonder about what they had endured. Rhysand would know where they were but he and Azriel were nowhere to be found. “Amren, where is Rhysand?” I called, stepping away from my unconscious friend. 

I could see she bit down on her sarcasm. “Townhouse,” she shrugged. 

I couldn’t winnow and I couldn’t fly. That left me running along the Sidra at full sprint. Usually my wings moved with each step but I had to be careful not that they were healing. I had to keep them still and close to my back which overtaxed the muscles of my shoulder and lower back. But I ignored my protesting muscles. A mist of rain coated my skin and I used brief bursts of magic to heat my skin, turning it to steam. 

Lucien had declared Elain his mate. By chance, Nesta might also have a mate. I needed to see for myself. I needed to feel for myself if that bond would snap into place. All her protesting about her human lifespan wouldn’t mean anything. Not to me. I wanted to be with her, even when she got old and needed assistance. Even when her skin wrinkled, hair greyed and to quote ‘breasts weren’t as perky’. I was so used to females coming into my bed and leaving it the next day. They wanted nothing more from me. I was still a bastard in Illyrian cultures and fae didn’t jump at the chance to mix blood. But every fiber of my being so desired what came after. I wanted the laughter, bickering and tenderness even though that meant suffering through the heartache of losing her one day. 

I was prepared to give my life to protect her. So how was it any different to give my happiness for her? To know when she passed, I’d never be the same? I didn’t see a difference. 

I skidded around street corners and tipped over trash cans when my momentum grew too quickly. My wings acting like a deadweight, swinging my body weight around, did not help in the slightest. But I found the townhouse and it’s bright wooden door, swinging it wide open before I could connect and crack the thing in half. The door slammed so hard into the wall that a painting fell.

Someone gasped. Rhysand sat at the cherry wood table to my right with Mor and Azriel. They shared a bottle of wine. “Cassian. Could you try to be less of an idiot?” Mor hissed, her brows furrowing. The air almost tingled inside the townhouse. As if Rhysand had removed the damper on his power and let the air fill with magic. Everything smelled  _ bright _ . 

I rolled my eyes, my skin steaming in the foyer. I tossed off my vambraces to take full advantage of the safety Velaris offered. “Where are they?” I asked. 

“Feyre is helping them get cleaned upstairs,” Rhysand answered. He motioned for me to take a seat, knowing full well I was about to march upstairs. He gave me a pointed look. “Cassian. Sit.” 

I huffed but took a seat. Not before I claimed a spare wine glass and poured some for myself. In the war camps, I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol. Soldiers could have nothing stronger than weak ale. The last way I wanted to lose a war was due to being caught drunk or with a bad hangover. I took a sip.  _ Rhysand brought out the good vintage.  _ “How are they?” I asked. It came out casual but I was thrumming with nerves. Her safety and my newfound courage to seek out Nesta’s hand was practically making me shake. I needed to confirm she was safe for myself. Then when she was ready, I’d tell her that I didn’t give a damn what she thought our fates had in store for us. 

Something in the house stirred. I glanced at Rhysand but he seemed to feel it just as I did. Mor and Azriel blanched, downing their glasses in unison. “Well? Are you going to answe-”

“They’re fae, Cass,” Azriel said quietly. 

I hadn’t fully heard him. “What?” 

“They’re fae,” Mor confirmed. “Hybern had them Made.” 

“How is that possible?” I breathed out. My thoughts hadn’t caught up yet. I was still confused. Nesta and Elain were human. They’d been mortal yesterday. Nesta had pushed me away claiming it was  _ because  _ of her mortality. 

“The bodies we saw,” Rhysand shook his head, staring into his clasped hands on the table. “The platform was for the Cauldron. The chairs to watch. Hybern threw in every human to turn them fae. Only Nesta and Elain survived.” 

“Threw them in?” I echoed. 

“Into the Cauldron.” 

“Well...are they okay?” I asked lamely. Their answering looks told me everything. 


	77. Unsettle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

When Mor winnowed us back, I asked her to leave me with my sisters. They needed to be washed but most importantly, they needed solitude. Mor, to my surprise and slight dismay, looked reluctant. Her eyes fell on Nesta but she nodded and closed the door, telling me she’d send in Nuala and Cerridwen with the bath water. 

My reunion with my previous handmaidens was cut short by my focus remaining solely on my sisters. Elain was curled up on the bed. Nesta sat in a chair by the window, staring at the misty night. Both handmaidens had offered to help me bathe them but I didn’t want anyone else touching them. I could hardly hold back my barred teeth. I winced, thanking them after I realized what my instincts had provoked. When Nuala and Cerridwen left the bathwater steaming, I’d asked if one of them wanted to go first. Neither replied. 

Once we had returned, Rhysand looked at my sisters with devastation on his face. Elain barely responded to Mor holding her. I wasn’t sure she noticed she’d been moved or winnowed across the continent. Nesta still shook in my arms; the longer I held her, the worse it got. Rhysand couldn’t meet my eyes. He spoke through the bond, telling me Hybern had turned them using the Cauldron and that he was sorry. I had said I was sorry too and walked up to a private bedroom. 

Now that it was time to clean them, I hesitated to sit them in the bathwater. I didn’t know what the Cauldron felt like. It could have felt like being immersed in fire or frozen in a lake, beneath a sheet of ice. All those possibilities were equally likely and I doubted they wanted to feel immersed in anything. I dragged over two wooden chairs and sat Elain in one, carefully guiding Nesta into the other. “I’m going to cut away your clothes,” I told them, unsheathing my dirk. Once again, they didn’t reply. Nesta followed me with her eyes. Elain was still lost in her thoughts. 

I wanted to ask them questions. To figure out what parts of them needed healing and how I could help but I refused to pry. _Was this how Alis felt?_ I thought. _Powerless?_ She had watched me become a shell and no amount of prodding could have removed the sadness cloaking my shoulders. A worse thought came, _Is this how Rhysand felt? Watching me return to Tamlin every morning?_

I distracted myself with my sister’s clothing. I dug into my magic reservoir, hoping time had passed for me to switch my magics and heat the room. I tugged harshly on the magic, able to produce a flame in one of my hands to bring the temperature up. I used my free hand to inspect their clothes, noting where it was stained and with what. Nesta’s seemed far worse off than Elain. Underneath their clothes, both of them were without blemish. Wherever Nesta had bled from had disappeared entirely, either from being Made anew or her fae healing. Even Elain’s freckles seemed like an artist had painted them on her cheeks with purpose. The only scarred part of them that remained was the hollowness in their eyes and the damage done to their minds. 

I was fearing what road lay ahead of them. It had taken Tamlin skewering my arms and Rhysand stepping in to pull me from the self-destruction I had subjected myself to. My sisters would have to walk that same path back to normalcy. 

_Lucien too_ , I sighed out.

I used the washing basin meant for hands and face to scoop the hot water from the bath. “Just let me know if you want to take over or be left alone,” I warned, taking a cloth, dipping it in the steaming water and wiping away their grime. I found comfort in caring for them. I wanted to rush and find them food. I wanted to provide and coddle until I could ease whatever part of me had broken the moment they were taken. Until I saw them return to their normal selves, I’d feel this ache inside me. It made me want to beg for anything. Elain’s indifference. Nesta’s glowering. I’d take it. 

At one point, Nesta took a cloth herself and began to wipe away the layers of dirt. I worked on Elain afterwards. “I’m cold,” Nesta muttered, breaking our silence.

I glanced at her. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh. “Oh. I’ll fix that,” I dipped my hand into the bathwater and pushed my magic until the water nearly boiled. Steam filled the air. She didn’t seem any better. I produced the flame in my cupped palm and took a break washing Elain to grow it until sweat beaded our foreheads. “Better?” 

She didn’t reply, just continued to wash. I brought out fresh dresses, loose and made of cotton in the Night Court fashion. I fumbled with Elain’s arms to get her into hers. “Did you want to-”

“No.” 

“Okay,” I swallowed my questions. 

“I can tell you still want to ask them,” she sighed, resigning herself. “We weren’t harmed. We watched Lucien be...whipped,” she took in Elain’s reaction but Elain hadn’t heard us. Her eyes were far off still. “The Attor recognized me as your sister but I lied-”

“You lied?” She gave me a flat look. Her stare, now fixed on an immortal body, made it even more cutting. I mumbled an apology. 

“I lied to that pathetic excuse for a king and-”

“King Hybern?” I interrupted her for the second time, unable to contain my horror. 

“Who do you think threw us into the Cauldron?” she spat, arching a dark brow. I flinched back. Though I hardly lowered them, I checked that my mental walls were raised. “I am still in disbelief that a male that small could hold the Cauldron. He thought he could control it,” her chest heaved. Her eyes were wide but not with disbelief or sorrow. They were enraged. “He threw so many humans in and they kept dying but he didn’t care. He just kept throwing them in. Even when the bodies piled up, he and his generals just watched.” 

I took in my sister. Her hair was unbound and wild. Her breath was erratic. I could hear her heartbeat pounding from where I knelt before Elain. I placed a tentative hand on Nesta’s knee. “I’m...I’m so sorry Nesta.” 

Her head snapped to me. “I’m _not_ broken,” she hissed out, nostrils flaring. Her hand laid over mine and that was the only warning I got before blinding pain shot up my arm. I cried out, pulling my hand to my chest. The skin was blistering. But it hadn’t been heat. Fire couldn’t burn me while I called on the Autumn Court’s magic. It was raw magic that seared my skin. 

I fell onto my back, holding my right hand tightly like it could stop the pain from reaching my mind. Nesta was leaning over me, her eyes wide and frantic. “Feyre?” she whispered, voice choking. I could feel Rhysand against my mental walls. _I’m fine_ , I called back and refusing to give him more. _I’m fine._

“I’m okay,” I nodded, watching the fear in her eyes. 

_Feyre, I feel your pain_ , Rhysand’s voice was slightly patronizing. _I will call for a healer._

Nesta sat back on her heels, breathing shakily. “It’s okay. It was an accident,” I gritted out as a wave of pain came when I flexed my hand to test it. “We’ll figure it out.” Nesta shook her head. “It’s scary but we can do it,” I kept rambling, telling her that it would be okay. 

“Stop pitying me,” she barked out. I found myself flinching again. Her eyes followed the movement, her lips thinning until they trembled. A knock came at the door and Nesta glared as an elderly woman inched her way in. I could feel Rhysand and the rest of the inner circle’s presence just beyond the door. 

My eyes never left Nesta’s body. “I don’t pity you. I want to help you.”

“Help me?” she glowered. “You can’t help me,” her voice was growing louder and louder. The healer carefully stepped forward, kneeling at my side. She took my hand in hers to inspect but my focus remained on Nesta. “Hybern is hunting you down,” I furrowed my brows, confused. “When he thought I wasn’t your sister, he had me sit for your portrait. The Attor knows your face too well. They distributed your portrait to the entire army.” 

I barely understood what she was saying. Hybern’s obsession with me seemed far off. But to Nesta, Hybern was here in this room. 

Taking note of the audience, she snarled. The sound ripped through the room. Reality was still catching up with me. “What are you all watching for? Get out,” she barked. In her own way, she asked for solitude. I motioned for the healer to rise, following her to the door. 

“I’ll send sleeproot tea and food,” I said, closing the door softly behind me. I was met by everyone’s eyes, but the ones I was struck by were Rhysands. His were on my burned hand. The flesh looked angry but the pain was far off to me. 

“I’ll need to clean this,” the healer next to me said. I waved her forward, down the stairs and away from the prodding eyes of my friends. They followed. The healer continued to flit around me like we were the only two in the room. My healing magic came slowly to heal my hand, needing my magic to be attuned to the Dawn Court for it to heal faster. She wrapped my hand carefully in gauze. “You’ll be healed in the morning. But you need rest,” she patted my cheek. The gesture felt foreign to me. 

Cassian took the first watch of the night. Rhysand just took me by the hand and led me to bed. 


	78. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

My head ached. My skin was on fire. Even though I could feel the exhaustion making my bones heavy, I could not find sleep. Everywhere the bed touched me felt agonizing like tiny needles pricked my skin. But nothing could compare to how cold I felt. All my hairs stood on end and it didn’t matter that I had piled the bed with every blanket available in the linen closet. 

In the cage, I didn’t need to sleep. No one else was and I would be a fool to start. My fear and anger burned like fuel inside me and kept me going. I watched over Elain and could keep a steady eye on those around me. But now, when I was supposedly safe, my body was still thrumming. 

Logically, I knew that almost every warm body in the house was poised to kill anyone who dared so much as touch Elain and I. Yet that didn’t matter. We had been stolen away even though Lucien, Morrigan and Cassian were there. Cassian had been paces away from me when the Attor winnowed me out of sight. All their power hadn’t stopped us from being stolen. 

The only option left was to rely on mine. Something foreign had taken root in me. It wasn’t just that my body no longer felt like my own. I knew that somewhere within there existed something  _ else _ . An  _ other _ . I had someone peering into my mind and I knew because I could see them too. They were there, separated by a barrier that might as well have been glass. Other than their existence I knew nothing about them. Strangely enough, I didn’t feel maliciousness from them. 

After another hour of restlessness, I gave up. Elain laid on the bed with her back to me. Her eyes were still unseeing and wide. When I had sent Feyre and the rest from the room I’d claimed for Elain and I, I had spent some time trying to pull Elain from her mind. Nothing had happened and I’d only felt the sting of tears when I finished. 

I slipped into the dark hallway to get the food Feyre had left for us. I knew logically my feet weren’t smacking the ground so harshly but my ears were shocked by the noise. I crept along as slowly as I could but each step made the wooden floorboards creak. I might as well have stomped down the hallway for as much noise as I heard. As I moved, I got better at placing my feet so no noise came out. By gliding almost, I made it to the kitchen in relative silence. The small distraction had granted me a moment away from how my skin still tingled and itched. 

The tray was left in the small kitchen with a lid to keep it warm. Inside, I found a fragrant curry stew with garlic bread. Fresh fruit was chopped in a bowl. A teapot with sleeproot tea laid out with two mugs. It smelled so appetizing that I felt my mouth water but my stomach roiled. I knew I’d end up with my head in the chamberpot if I ate the stew with how my body protested. I settled for the bread and tore it into pieces. Once again, everything was so noisy. 

“Nesta?”

I spun, almost sending the tray skittering had my reflex not kicked in to grab it. Cassian stood in the dark kitchen. If I was human, I would have only made out his silhouette in the slivers of moonlight. But I wasn’t human and I could see him just as clearly as he could me. Everything from the fine scars flecking his hands to where smudges of dirt touched his neck. I could make out the difference between his hazel iris and the black of his dilated pupil. My ears must follow my attention as a heartbeat joined the pulsing of my own. My eyes settled on his wings that were pasted with a brown bandage. 

His lips were slightly parted. Surprise written in the lift of his brows and widening of his eyes. I was used to his eyes on me. I knew that he studied me when I was and was not looking. But now, the familiar habit of his had changed. I had changed. He swallowed me whole with his eyes now. Everything he could glean from mere observation he took and noted, definitely for later contemplation. 

I thought back to the King of Hybern. How he had tried to do the same and had thought himself so skilled at divining information that he had missed my lies.  _ Cassian would not be fooled by falsehoods _ , I told myself. 

He licked his lips, wiping a hand over his lower jaw. “I almost didn’t want to believe it.” I watched him. “I still hardly think you’re standing here,” he shook his head. His eyes became pits so dark and lonely that I could easily have drowned in. I hadn’t let myself think I’d see him either. The last I told him was that we would never be more and that fate was going to pull us apart. Being in front of him now didn’t change that. Tomorrow would always prove my point. If I was smart, I’d know that my heart was too open when it came to this male. If I was ever going to survive then I needed to protect it better. “Can you say something so I know it’s true?” he asked quietly. I realized suddenly he had dialed back his voice. It wasn’t as loud. 

“I’m here,” I confirmed. This time we were within a couple of paces of each other and I still felt as if he was a league away, powerlessly watching me get torn from his sight. 

Whatever moment we had passed. He relaxed, undoubtedly forcing his shoulder to ease back and his hands to his side. His eyes fell to the bread in my hand. “The garlic might make your stomach hurt,” he added. “You should have some plain food.” He stepped around me cautiously to pull bread from a bread tin. He tore off a round and handed it to me. I took it numbly, careful that my fingers didn’t brush his. I ate the bread slowly. It was plain bread and yet its flavor filled my mouth. He seemed content to sit by as I ate. 

He watched everything else in the house besides for me. Perhaps for the first time. “Do you need anything else?” The question caught me off guard. Exactly what did I need? Could he stop my skin from smarting when I touched something? Did he know how to keep my visitor from entering my mind? Could he keep me safe? I didn’t know if the answer to any of these questions lay with him. 

I settled for the one thing I knew was within range. “I’m cold,” I replied. 

He physically started. I didn’t think he expected me to reply. I wasn’t sure why I did. Maybe just to give him a task so he’d stop analyzing me. He darted away and I followed him into a sitting room just off the foyer. He tossed logs in haphazardly. So focused on his task he never lit a single candle in the room, working in the darkness though I knew his eyes were suited for it. His hands were near shaking to light the fire. When the flint wouldn’t light the tinder, he summoned his magic and his siphons did the rest after a brilliant flash of red light. I stepped back immediately, seeing the warm light of the Cauldron. The red behind my eyelids as the Cauldron’s magic reformed my body like clay, breaking bones and stretching skin. A sheen of sweat started on my forehead. 

But I was no longer so damnably cold. He’d started such a large fire that it threatened to crawl out of the fireplace and consume the house too. I sat on the couch opposite and eagerly let my cold shivers turn into heavier sweats. I could feel my hands and toes finally. The way my skin shifted ceased as well, the heat driving away all the hypersensitivity of being a fae. 

“You can sleep if you want to,” he said. The fool stood so close to the fire, I watched the flames lick closer and closer to his pants.  _ Should I warn him?  _

My eyes flicked back to his. “Even if I could, I don’t want to.” His eyes prodded me.  _ Keep going _ , they urged.  _ Just don’t stop.  _ “I don’t think I will sleep for a while,” I started bitter but ended softly. 

He nodded, accepting what I said. “I’ll keep watch then,” he said, walking away from me. 

I shook my head, huffing softly. His hearing caught it and he stopped in the doorway. His injured wings illuminated in the firelight. Warm orange light showing just how many ash arrows it had taken to turn them into a net. “You can’t protect me anymore,” I said to his back. “No one can.”

His head looked over his shoulder, his jawline severe. I watched him swallow. I heard it too. My attention on him made me hyper aware not only to how my body responded to his but how he did to me. I could smell the sourness of his guilt and shame, like vinegar, like he put it on as a cologne. “I can try,” he rasped. 

“You’ll die trying then,” I said coldly.  _ Accept it damn you _ , I mentally hissed. I didn’t want him dying for me. I could accept my own fate but not his. Not like that. He couldn’t keep risking himself for something that would never change. He huffed a laugh and he smiled back at me. I was not fooled into thinking him happy. His smile didn’t reach from ear to ear. There was no booming laughter that started at his stomach and shook his entire frame. “Just accept-”

“I never know when to stop trying, Nesta,” my spine shivered. He turned and left me to sit alone besides the fire. Though I was alone, I knew he was there. I thought once I no longer looked at him, his heartbeat and scent would leave too but they never faded. They kept me company till the dawn. 


	79. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please welcome the newest POV: Batboy #3
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Azriel:**

When I returned to the townhouse with the mail, only Cassian and Rhysand were in the kitchen so early in the morning. The Archeron sisters and Mor all remained upstairs. Only one of them slept and I knew it was Mor. The house was quiet in the way that spoke of tension. Once the door closed, both males had looked to see me before including me within their sound barrier. 

“Exactly what did he say?” Rhysand asked, leaning on the counter and sipping coffee. He didn’t wear his armor. He’d send Mor in his stead. He wouldn’t separate from Feyre just yet. It was still up for debate if he’d ask her to remain in Velaris again as a last chance to keep her safe. 

She’d still refuse but he would give her the choice. 

Cassian wore his armor, fully cleaned and shined. It smelled of oil and leather polish. I noted that too. Nesta would also recognize it and I doubted she’d be entertained. “He said exactly that, ‘Where is my mate?’” their conversation became notably more interesting. Though I suspected it already, it was nice to confirm. 

Rhysand sat the mug down, pressing his hand to his temple like he could shove that headache back. How Rhysand could be surprised by this, I would never know. Feyre was his mate. He had met her when she was human. The intensity with which Lucien regarded Elain should have slapped Rhysand with deja vu.  _ Ah _ ,  _ ever the same male as when we were young.  _

Mates were rare but they came when the workings of destiny needed assistance. Lucien would not be the last male to recognize the mating bond during this war. 

I looked at the pile of mail in my hands. It seems Amren had found a different way of communicating that appealed to her isolated lifestyle. “Is Elain aware?” Rhysand asked. 

Cassian barked a laugh that made me grateful to the sound barrier that no one else could hear. “How the hell would I know? Lucien was half-dead. He wasn’t going to give me a synopsis of what happened in the fucking camp,” Cassian heaved. He slapped his forehead. “I need to know what happened in that fucking camp,” he breathed out pitifully. 

Rhysand nodded his agreement. I poured myself some coffee, noting some foreign scrawl on the letters. “They weren’t ready for questions last night. Feyre said Nesta was recognized by the Attor,” he ground out. Cassian’s knuckles went white on his coffee mug. It took a second longer for it to shatter but Rhysand didn’t notice or care. “But she told the King of Hybern she didn’t know who Feyre was-” 

“She  _ lied _ ?” Cassian’s voice grew so loud it tested the ability of the sound barrier. I raised my brows in a generous display of shock. Cassian was angry. I was impressed. “To Hybern? She was in front of  _ Hybern _ ?”

“And he believed her.” 

Cassian started. “Of course he fucking did,” he said, huffing. I believed Cassian’s words more an appraisal of Nesta than a slandering of Hybern. Cassian nodded, waving his hand for Rhysand to continue. I found impatience and Cassian went hand-in-hand but it seemed more acute where Nesta was concerned. 

“He had her portrait taken and had the Attor modify it so they knew what Feyre looks like.” I knew this had happened. The paper in my back pocket was burning a hole as I thought about it. But the actual story behind it left me wordless. Rhysand’s voice lowered and his hands on the counter whitened. Some of his magic slipped from his control and the room dimmed. “He distributed it to the entire camp,” he growled. 

I struggled. Holding back now would be deceiving Rhysand. Though being so forthcoming might just bring the house and surrounding mountains down on top of us. I sighed. I was never a liar. I took out the paper from my pocket and unfolded it, laying it on the counter for Cassian and Rhysand to look over. While I had been setting Hybern’s camp on fire and terrorizing their forces, I’d found it in one of the tents. At first, it confused me. It could have been taken from the Spring Manor for all I knew. But I had found more copies the further I tore through their camp. All of them had the same writing on the bottom:  _ Feyre Archeron. Lady of the Night Court. Dead or Alive.  _

Hybern was hunting her down. Confirmation of everything Rhysand had believed and feared to be true. That his enemies would make her their enemy. Now that Nesta, Elain and Lucien had been torn from us, losing Feyre was a possibility that remained on the table. Most likely, it had never left the table for Rhysand. 

Rhysand sucked in a breath. His eyes blackened and his magic sucked the air from the room. “I’ll kill him.” Feyre’s portrait was spot on. The artist had even captured the defiance in her eyes. My shadows licked at truthteller, whispering to me what I should do to see my family protected. 

“We’ll keep her safe,” I wasn’t sure if Cassian spoke to the room or not. 

Rhysand shook his head, his shoulders eased. “With how her magic grows, I think she’ll be protecting us soon enough,” he laughed. All the darkness that invaded the room fell away instantly the moment his thoughts turned to Feyre. Even my shadows clung closer to me in the light. I thought back to Feyre in the Spring Court. Even covered in the guts of another soldier and singed from the explosion, she looked alive and powerful. 

“How did her burn heal?” I dared. 

Rhysand’s smile faltered and I winced to have to cause that in him. “The Dawn Court magic was enough to see the blisters gone this morning. Though I don’t think any of us would walk away from a burn of pure magic so easily,” he shook his head. “Nesta can summon raw magic,” he tested out the words, weighing them. “I can’t wait to see how that develops,” he concluded with a tiredness that came with knowing the burdens of power. If Nesta could summon raw magic so readily and without training, I wondered what she would do when her powers settled and awakened. 

My eyes fell back to the mail in my hands. “That will have to wait,” I sighed. Both pairs of eyes looked at me with moderate confusion. I held up two letters in my hands. “Would you like to handle the Human Queen’s letter first or Lucien Vanserra’s summons?” 

The reactions I received were mixed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was used to being summoned. As Rhysand’s spymaster, tasks came up and he frequently had to call on me suddenly. I knew how to drop tasks and return to them later so I could sort out whatever duties he handed me. I had mastered the ability to drop and resume conversations without missing a beat. For someone who could step between the shadows of the world, I could easily accustom myself to all realities. 

Except for one, possibly. 

Lucien Vanserra had summoned me. I was caught between a scowl and a laugh. Out of every fae in this world and the half-dead, newly-mated one summons  _ me _ . Not Rhysand as I had originally thought. Lucien surprised me too often for me to like. 

I amused myself and winnowed to the infirmary. He hadn’t said much, just asked me to come when I had time and preferably alone. Why he asked me was lost on me. Cassian and him had formed a friendship. They talked and laughed together. I’d sparred with Lucien a few times, showed him how to slit a fae’s throat a couple more and now the male was summoning me. 

His copper hair was a beacon among all the cots. He laid on his chest with his back heavily bandaged by white cotton gauze. Having been so close to death the day previous, I was relieved to see he had regained the vitality in his skin that made him look like he’d been lounging outdoors. 

His ears flicked to me as I approached.  _ Cautious _ , I noted. Amren had spent the night in the infirmary but I doubted the fae would trust her to watch his back. I didn’t blame him. If I didn’t know Amren, I would think she’d rather slit my throat than be bothered by me. Somedays, I think she still considered it. 

“Thank you for coming,” his voice was hoarse still but it sounded more lucid. I remained silent. “Cassian can’t keep a secret for his life, especially from his High Lord and brother. I know you know that Elain is my mate.” I continued my silence. “The healers say I need a couple of days,” he shook his head. “I’d argue with them if I could stand but I can’t.” 

“Why have you summoned me?” 

He opened and closed his mouth. “If I stay here any longer without knowing if she’s alright, I’ll burst into flames.” I sat on the cot across from him. I dreaded my position somedays. “Azriel. Say  _ something _ . I watched her walk into the Cauldron yesterday night. I know she is fae. But after they dragged her away...I…” his voice choked. “I don’t…”

“You watched her  _ walk _ into the Cauldron?” I clarified, furrowing my brows. I had imagined they’d drag her there. I never in my entire life wanted to hear what her screams sounded like. 

Lucien’s eyes were red when they looked at me. “She saw all the other humans go in before her and die. I think she wanted to go on her own terms,” he rasped, voice breaking. Now that he had spoken, I agreed with that image more so. Elain’s grace was born of strength, not politeness and manners. “Nesta followed her,” Lucien added. “I swear the world shuddered when she emerged.” I stored all this information for future reference. “Would you just tell me how she is?” he begged quietly. 

“She doesn’t move, Lucien,” I sighed. “I’d bring her here if she’d respond. But she’s…” I didn’t want to say it. Elain didn’t deserve to be spoken about like that. Even if she had become quiet, she was owed respect. I resisted saying it but I couldn't fight that it was the truth. “She’s like a doll. You can sit her anywhere and she’ll stay there for hours.” 

“She hasn’t said...said anything?” Lucien’s voice was so quiet and fragile. His eyes were flicking rapidly around, figuring out a way to her side faster and faster. I knew by the way his body remained still despite his mind’s restlessness, he wouldn’t move for a while. His mind was a bird in a cage, eagerly trying to find a way out. 

“Nothing that I have heard.” 

He muttered some curses, pressing his face into the mattress. If he had been healthy, I suspected something would have been burning by now. A mate’s instinct isn’t entirely their own. It can take over initially if the fae isn’t prepared to handle it. Lucien’s instincts seemed to swallow him whole. “Can you bring her outside then? Make sure she gets food? Sleep?” 

The request caught me off guard. Perhaps his instincts didn’t have that strong a hold for him to ask me to care for his mate. Maybe it was his heart that drowned him right then. I sighed out, feeling the bottomlessness of this issue. “This isn’t the same as when the human broke their engagement,” I shook my head. “You can’t bring her a plant and hope it will-”

“But I have to try,” he wheezed out. “I just want to know she is safe while I am here. Please. Only for a couple of days. You can’t give-”

“I am not giving up,” I snapped back, my voice a hush and a threat to him. 

“Then act like it,” he bit back. “I don’t care if she never wants to speak again or if she has to spend centuries in solitude. But I will see she has what she needs and for right now, you’re the only fucking person who can see to that. So just watch over her, please.” 


	80. Guard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I thought once my sisters were back I’d feel relief but that had been too naive of me. Now all I could think about was their lives and what a wreck I had brought on them. Nesta had told me in the beginning that I would bring them trouble and I had. In my heart, I knew that trouble was coming regardless of my involvement but I still resented the part I played in their pain. I had given up on trying to tell myself that wasn’t rational. I knew loving my sisters had never made me _more_ logical.

Rhysand had held me through the night when I couldn’t sleep. He took me onto the roof of the townhouse and told me about the constellations above us, offering me blissful distraction. 

Now, he walked arm-in-arm with me to visit Lucien in the infirmary. In the full light of day, Velaris was just as beautiful. Cobble-stone streets were lined by vibrantly colored homes that could have been from any of the seven Courts. The Sidra gleamed iridescent under the bright late-morning sun. We fit in notably well. Rhysand wore his regular black kurta tunic and I walked in a purple saree. Since Azriel and Cassian had also dressed down their armor, it was made abundantly clear that the preservation of Velaris’s innocence was of critical importance. Both Illyrians wore brown leathers, but neither had forgone their swords. Old habits being hard to break and all. 

Rhysand even carried his sword and let his wings out from their glamour. I creatively strapped two dirks to my thighs. It made me laugh to watch Rhysand grow very confused when he felt them beneath the fabric of my skirt, bringing me close for a kiss. He’d surprised me by pushing my skirt up to see for himself. I got the last laugh though; I wore no undergarments. 

He hadn’t minded in the least and delayed our departure by another hour. After straightening ourselves again, he walked casually at my side. “If you were lacking undergarments, you could have said something,” he taunted. 

“I didn’t exactly come with a closet,” I replied dryly. 

“It might be a good thing. I don’t think Spring Court fashion would fit so well into your training,” he shrugged. “Annihilating Hybern’s troops isn’t made easier in gowns, or so I am told.” After having confronted Tamlin at the refugee camp, I found I could speak about it without choking. The power he had over my heart had finally cracked when I could see the male with unclouded eyes. When I had stood toe-to-toe with him and had realized he came up short. 

When I mastered the Spring Court magic, I would finally wash my hands of him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing Lucien with my own eyes had helped to ease my instincts. The very same instincts Rhysand had for me, I had developed when my sisters and Lucien had been taken. The previous night, I had confided to Rhysand how even after Nesta and Elain had gone to bed that I wanted to watch over them. Nesta could hate me. Elain could ignore me. That didn’t matter to me. Some insane part of me wanted to stay by their sides even though my burned hand was proof as to why that wasn’t advisable. My mate had smiled at me in a soft way, like I had made him proud. 

Apparently the fae instincts extended past the mating bond. Family, real or perceived, still elicited the same reactions that mates did for protection and love. He laughed when my face fell flat, _You have adopted Lucien as your family, as it may seem Feyre._ So he agreed to visit Lucien with me since I had unconsciously taken Lucien as my family. 

It took a lot of willpower not to run like a little kid through the infirmary to my family’s side. Azriel had apparently already spoken to him so I knew Lucien was awake and aware. I forced myself to ease onto my knees next to his cot while Rhysand sat across from us on an empty cot. 

Lucien’s eyes followed the movement, a heartbreaking vulnerability in those eyes. “It’s good to see you, Feyre” he said, propping his face on his forearm. Even that small motion had him wince. His back was encased in white gauze. The bare skin on the sides of his torso was heavily bruised, so deep a purple it almost appeared black. His wrists showed some small bruising too. I knew he had been whipped from Cassian’s report but the reality of the torture was more severe than anyone could ever have communicated. 

Unable to hold back, I threw my arms around his neck. Without a second thought he returned the gesture with his hand lightly pressed to my side. He still smelled of apples and crisp leaves in the fall. My chest lightened but my throat constricted, hot tears squeezing out from my eyes. Rhysand’s presence in my mind warmed considerably, like a caress against mine. “I’m so sorry Lucien,” I sighed out against his head of hair. “I’ve not stopped causing you trouble since I met you.” 

He laughed though it was tight and hollow. I expected him to reject me as Nesta had. To tell me that Hybern is as real and as scary as they come and that my apologies wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. I hadn’t expected his next words. “I should be apologizing, Feyre.” 

I pulled back in time to see Lucien cast a look to my mate, words exchanged that I wasn’t privy to. I promised I’d scold Rhysand later. I turned back to Lucien to see his jaw tightening. “What do you have to apologize for?” I asked him, almost accusingly. I didn’t understand how Lucien could continue to blame himself after he nearly killed himself trying to protect my sisters. 

“Feyre,” he sighed, leaning his head on his forearm. “I wasn’t honest with you.” Now I was feeling increasingly left out. I gaped at him, wondering what he could have withheld. I came up with nothing. “Elain is my mate,” he breathed, voice so soft that I doubted anyone beyond Rhysand could have heard it. My brows shot up. “I found out the night she was Made.” 

“How could you have known that?” I said softly, reaching a hand to grasp his hand. He retracted his hand from mine. I pulled back as if I was stung. Mentally, I felt Rhysand bristle at the male. _Lucien’s immobile in a bed, Rhysand_ , I chided my overprotective mate. 

“No...not that,” he shook his head. “I fell in love with Elain before then.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. Elain attracted everyone’s affection. She’d received so many offers of courtship in the time I was gone, I was partially surprised Nesta didn’t have archers posted at the door ready to shoot on sight. So I shouldn’t have been surprised that Lucien had done the same. It seemed I had missed what was right before my eyes. 

In the time I had been looking at all my memories of the two with a new perspective, Lucien had been rambling. He started with how he should have told me even when we were back in the Spring Court and how I had trusted him with my sister's lives. How he had accused me of terrible things when I deceived him over Rhysand’s bargain. At that point, I wondered if Lucien was purposefully attempting to rile Rhysand. Finally, he had admitted that even though he knew about the depth of his feelings he hadn’t told me because he truly believed he could never offer Elain anything. 

His face was so taught, I could see the muscles in his throat tensing. His mechanical eye was closest to me and even it appeared thoroughly disturbed. His lips formed a flat line. I belatedly realized he kept his head bowed while waiting for me to decide judgement. The gesture sent me back in time to the Spring Court. I’d seen him do the same when Tamlin gave him orders. 

I released the breath I held slowly. Not taking any resistance from him, I grasped his hand tightly in mine. “I fell in love with Rhysand before I even knew he was my mate. I didn’t tell anyone because it was shameful. Engaged to one and loving another,” Lucien studied me with rapt attention. I couldn’t discern what he thought of me. If what I said changed his opinion, I didn’t know. “Love sometimes makes us think so foolishly. That we don’t deserve it.” 

I paused to absorb how shocked he looked. I memorized his face, fearing the day I wouldn’t see my friend again. He swallowed. “You’re not angry with me.”

I smiled broadly. “I wish you could have told me but I can’t blame you for hiding your feelings,” he eased back into the bed, mind still attempting to catch up with what I told him. I eased up to my feet and bent to press my hand to his shoulder. “You have to rest. Elain needs time herself but I don’t think it could hurt to have you with her,” my last smile to my friend was tight with pain. Elain would need time and maybe one day, I’ll know what I could do to restore her happiness. 

I linked arms with Rhysand, strolling into the bright light of day. _I’m impressed your instincts didn’t make you more protective,_ he said breezily into my mind. 

_Why?_

_Protective over Elain? Warning Lucien to treat her well? Your instincts would push these fears into your mind naturally._

I laughed then. _I have no fear that Lucien will treat Elain perfectly._ Not a single worry manifested inside of me at the thought either. My instincts were perfectly content with their match. They paired well, the more I thought of it. 

_I guess he has no choice though_ , Rhysand sighed. I raised a brow at my mate, wondering where he went. _The alternative is you ripping apart whatever Nesta doesn’t herself._

 _Speaking of tearing apart, you knew they were mates and you didn’t tell me?_ I stated, leaving no emotion for him to glean. Or _do you speak mind-to-mind in front of me to flaunt that I haven’t mastered that yet?_ I gritted out to my errant mate. Speaking to Rhysand’s mind was second nature but reaching out to another’s still eluded me. 

Rhysand stopped us from walking any further, pulling me back into his arms. We stopped by the Sidra but Rhysand’s hand on my chin brought my eyes to his. The purple was alive with interest. His smile grew feline. _Are you jealous?_ He said each word slowly, like he was relishing the idea. 

My cheeks heated and I scowled. _I wish you told me-_

_You know that Lucien would want to tell you himself._

_Even so-_

_You’re jealous that I spoke to Lucien’s mind and you don’t want to admit it,_ he laughed and the sensation tickled my spine. I forced away my shiver and continued to glare at my perceptive mate. His hand encircled my waist, bringing me snug against him. Out of reflex, I almost leaned my head against his chest before I remembered I was supposed to be angry. _Oh, I do so love my protective mate_ , he reflected and leaned his head down to mine. 

His lips were a hair’s breadth away from mine but his eyes kept me pinned. In them I could see the heat and pleasure he took at witnessing some of my instincts be directed at him. Some of his warmth pooled within me. He drew in a long breath and I was rethinking my earlier decision to forgo undergarments. I gave in and replied, _I am yours_. 

His face ignited with pride, smile widening from ear to ear. _And I am yours_ , he confirmed before I surrendered to his kiss.


	81. Darken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

My sisters had yet to leave their room. Azriel waited in the kitchen for the event that they ever did. Cassian and Rhysand were going to winnow to the war camps to ensure nothing had been set on fire in the twelve hours we had been gone. In another day, we all would need to return to continue our decimation of whatever troops we could find in Hybern. Before that, I needed to move all of my friends still waiting in the refugee camps back to the Night Court. Alis and her nephews. Bron. Farrel, Aaron and Sherwood. All of them, patiently awaiting my return even after having been attacked so savagely. 

It had taken me considerable less time to change into my armor than my saree and I took that as a good sign.

When I returned to the kitchen, fully dressed, a female I took to be Amren stood in the kitchen. The moment I saw her, she spun to face me. Her eyes like smokescreens. No pupil or iris, just a grey cloud. Her lips pulled back to reveal teeth that I thought must be too sharp to be wholly fae. Despite her eyes, something else was missing. I tried to place my finger on it. 

“Rhysand has been remiss in our introduction,” she grinned. 

“Amren,” I smiled back at her tone. Her voice was like a snake’s hiss but retained warmth with it’s humor. I knew I should have been unnerved but I couldn’t see why. I stood in the presence of an apex predator, even more so than perhaps everyone else in the house, and I didn’t feel threatened. In any case, I felt protected. I knew nothing would ever get by this wisp of a female and my sisters were safe with her. 

Rhysand opened his mouth but Amren held up her hand, stopping all words. “I’ve spent too long in Velaris. I think you can handle the city for a day, Rhysand,” she walked towards me with measured steps. The entire time her eyes looked me up and down. “I’ll take Feyre. A trip between us females,” she winked conspiratorially but the gesture felt empty, like she didn’t quite understand the context. 

_I highly doubt you qualify as a female,_ I mused but I still proffered my hand to hers. The other males in the room gaped. Rhysand had begun to object. 

Her hand wasn’t cold but there was no heat either. I realized what had been lacking from her fae form. I heard no heartbeat. She didn’t breathe either. She tightly grasped my hand in hers, eyes wide with intensity. “Come along you mortal soul in immortal trappings,” she said before leading me out the door of the townhouse, winnowing us away. 

_Be safe, Feyre_ , Rhysand’s voice in my mind lingered. We both knew Hybern was trying to hunt me down. This wasn’t new to us. We knew that there would always be enemies to us. Though that enemy became much more solid when my family had been kidnapped and Hybern commissioned my portrait for his armies to use. But I told Rhysand that I wouldn’t hesitate against our enemy and the reminder of my actions in the Spring Court proved it. He’d brushed a caress over my mind before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We appeared in the war camps, nothing appearing out of the ordinary. The War Lords and Commanders ran their respective legions through drills though glancing at us, they scowled. “One day, I think I’ll remove their testicles,” Amren sighed wistfully, grinning back at them. By how some blanched, they must have heard her. 

“What stops you?” though I had no desire to get _anywhere_ near their testicles, I enjoyed the threat. Rhysand had been right that they’d only respect me when they saw my power. My actions in the Spring Court have improved their views but seeing as I hadn’t yet been challenged, I still had a long way to go. I was eager for that day though. 

Seeing the world through her eyes was interesting to me. Amren wasn’t fae or human. Or anything I’d ever encountered before. I didn’t think emotions like mercy plagued her. We strolled to the scribes tent to inform the High Lords that the Human Queens have replied. We had a fortnight before meeting them and they would only meet under very specific conditions. 

The scribe, Therian, was boyish. For Illyrians, I had assumed they came out of the womb fully grown and feral. I had a hard time thinking of Cassian and Azriel as anything other than the warrior I knew them both to be. Sadly, I knew this was likely because neither of them experienced the innocence that usually accompanied childhood. 

I dictated the message to deliver but before the scribe finished, Amren placed her finger on the paper’s edge. Therian froze. His black skin was almost swallowed by the whites of his eyes when he looked up at Amren. “You signed this message from our High Lord,” she stated. He gulped. “Rewrite it. Sign it from the Lady of the Night Court as she dictated it to you.” The words came out hard but the scribe rushed to complete the new letters. After, Amren appraised them before approving them for delivery. 

“The message originally _was_ from Rhysand,” I smiled when we left the tent. I raised the sound barrier immediately. Amren wrinkled her nose at the magic. 

“I am aware,” she sighed, looking at the silver rings on her fingers. Each one had small red jewels of different shades and shapes embellishing the surface. 

“I don’t like to address the other High Lords.” 

Amren turned to face me, cocking her head. “You have your reservations.” 

I dipped my head. 

“Get rid of them,” she waved her hand. “I know you contain their magics inside you. Not only does this link your life to theirs but theirs to yours.” I stared at her, clicking my jaw shut to keep from gaping. “Rhysand is likely resistant to the idea because of the implications but I think this has made him overlook what might be inherently obvious.” 

“And that is?” I asked, looking to the brightly colored tents dotting the field. Each contained a court and High Lord and somehow I was linked to each of them. My life might be tied to theirs or their land but it would take disaster to figure out the consequences of that link. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out how deep that link ran. If the mating bond was a link between souls through magic, was this a bond made entirely through magic then? Had reviving me indirectly formed a bargain between me and every High Lord? That struck fear into me. I could feel Rhysand’s nervous presence outside my mind, no doubt wondering what made me anxious. 

“There are several plausible outcomes,” she linked her arm through mine and squeezed me tight to her side. I was almost a head taller than her and yet felt small. She didn’t just _have_ magic but _was_ magic. Getting close to her felt similar to the tingling sensation of the Wall falling. “That you might be able to influence your piece of magic in them and vice versa. But more importantly, if a High Lord died without an heir, you inherit their magic and become the next High Lady or…” she debated something mentally before finishing with, “Or you die.” 

I swallowed. I knew if what she said was true then the implications were awesome but servere. I doubt the High Lords would take kindly to an outsider having such power over them, especially if that outsider was the mate to the High Lord of the Night Court. “They gave me their magic. Hasn’t that severed the connection? I only sense Rhysand’s presence afterall…” Wouldn’t I be able to feel that same connection with the other?

“He’s your mate. You _would_ bond with him first,” she shrugged. There was no suggestion in her words towards our physical relationship but my mind went there. Towards the mating bond that wasn’t fulfilled. If the connection to the other High Lords was true, then had Rhysand made a mistake? Did he confuse our bond through the magic he’d given me to be a mating bond? My chest tightened. I didn’t want another. Would he even want me if our mating bond hadn’t been there? I reminded myself of how he knew me when I was still human, even before I had met Tamlin. That eased the worst of my fears but the very real fear of losing my mate remained. “But we’d have to test it to know. And with a High Lord that isn’t your mate.” 

“I don’t trust any of them,” I shot back quickly, irritated. 

She laughed. “I can practically taste your fear, Feyre. Rhysand asked me to research the Cauldron. When that got boring, I looked into magical bonds. I tell you this because it is better you know before it can be used against you. Not to make you fearful. It makes your scent...unpleasant,” her nose wrinkled. 

“What if Rhysand isn’t my mate?” I blurted, my arm in hers tightened. 

“I’d count myself personally lucky on that count,” she mused. Amren rolled her eyes when she saw that my fear was still present and unable to share her humor. The more I thought of losing Rhysand, of my friends and the home I had made the more I sank into a bottomless pit of despair. Her hand came up to my chin, raising it to meet her murky eyes. The clouds roiled, like everything inside of her was begging to be let out. “But there isn’t a mistake. Helion Spellcleaver in all his gaudy glory verified it.” She released my chin when I breathed out in relief. 

I remained tense for the time it took us to winnow to the refugee camp. My nerves already shot. I wished Rhysand was near me. I refused to use our mental bond though, feeling I should remain strong on my own two feet. The cold winds of the Autumn Court didn’t help ease my muscles. 

I asked Amren if we should have waited for the High Lords to acknowledge they’d seen the letter about the Human Queens but Amren sniffed. They directed all letters to Azriel and she refused to communicate anymore than she had to with the High Lords. 

Varian and Cresseida were there when we winnowed. More Summer Court refugees had arrived during the day and they were ensuring all settling went according to plan. Since the Ambush, three legions from the Winter Court had joined the Night Court’s in protecting the area. Instead of being a field of tents, outposts had been erected and permanent mess halls. I was glad the fae were finally cared for but bitterness still held my heart. The leaves were still burned from all the fae we had said goodbye to in the light of the dawn. Hart. Shepard. Oliver. It had taken so many lives for action and I bit my cheek to keep from hissing. 

“Lady Feyre,” Cresseida called, eyes tight. Varian looked less pleased. Though it was up in the air whether his glare was for me or Amren. Cresseida’s hair was in two long braids on either side of her hair with small little shells woven into them, looking like white scales. Varian's shells only formed a tail at the back of his neck like a fish's. _Too bad Rhysand and I can't wear the stars about our necks_ , I laughed to myself.

I strode over to stop a few paces from them. My training had made me more cautious to stand near others, especially those outside my inner circle. Though with Rhysand at my side, I could hug an adder and still be safe. “Princess,” I regarded her with slight amusement. Tarquin had offered me a dinner and his thanks for saving his people from Hybern once upon a time. Shortly after, Rhysand had claimed me as his mate. It left their opinion of me undecided. 

“How does Morrigan fare?” her eyes gave away nothing. 

“She is recovered. I’ll tell her you asked,” I smiled back, appreciating Cresseida a little more. Varian remained aloof. 

“That isn’t necessary. She fought alongside me during the ambush,” Cresseida’s voice was stiff and it was difficult to pull any emotion from it. 

“I never thanked you for fighting that night. Thank you, you saved a lot of lives.” 

She could have been from the Winter Court from the ice in her gaze. I took no offense. I was not responsible for the deaths that night. “There were even more deaths. Human deaths.” 

Amren and I stood silent. I felt she was waiting for me to speak. _Funny that Amren would obey the protocols for my title and no one else’s_. I raised my chin and met Cresseida’s eyes with my own hard stare. I thought of Elain and Nesta in their cages. Lucien stuck in his cot, attempting to repair the damage Hybern’s cruelty inflicted. My sisters being Made. I had enough hate against that male that it was easy to say, “And Hybern will be punished for them and every soldier under his command, I’ll accept nothing less than their heads.” 

“Are you prepared to act as their executioner?” Varian spoke up, crossing his arms over his broad chest. I knew he didn’t mean on the battlefield. In the heat of the moment, slaying a person was made simplistic. It was kill or be killed. Afterwards, when the victors decided the fates of the vanquished, that was when a person’s true bloodlust could be measured. It was easy to become the tyrant then, committing atrocities in the name of justice. 

I lifted my chin. Having my sisters and Lucien back prompted me forward. “Among the humans Hybern kidnapped were my sisters,” I stated, watching their faces freeze. Even Amren tensed at my side. “We took them back. But for all the horrors I saw in that camp, I will hold those accountable and will not falter.” 

“I apologize, Lady Feyre. We didn’t know,” Cresseida said stiffly. 

But Varian didn’t apologize or blink. Amren studied him with interest at this. “I will stand with you on that day,” Varian nodded firmly and I returned the gesture. He cleared his throat. “High Lord Tarquin’s invitation to dinner still stands.” Cresseida glared openly at Varian over this. Amren’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“You can tell High Lord Tarquin my mate and I gratefully accept,” I inclined my head, turning away from them to go collect my friends. Leaving quickly meant they couldn’t reject Rhysand’s attendance as well. Though they were hardly in a position to refuse his attendance, both as my mate and High Lord.

Amren remained behind to exchange words with the siblings, giving me privacy. I wasn’t so naive as to think the distance between us would impact her ability to watch over me. Even as I walked many paces from her side, the unease of her magic still followed me. 

Alis had bundled up into many layers since I’d last seen her. Even Thales and Linus wore a thick tunic instead of just their Summer-styled skirts. “My lady,” she breathed out, wrapping her arms around me. I hugged her back. I was secretly relieved she had overcome the initial weariness of me in the face of all this peril. It would be good to have her in Velaris with my sisters. That being if she still wished to stay with me. Accepting me was not the same as accepting my court and people. I hoped Velaris would warm her to the idea though. 

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” I sighed against her curly head of hair. 

“Nonsense,” she huffed, laughing. “Please tell me the Night Court isn’t as cold as this forest?” she winced. Sherwood, Farrel and Aaron were more acclimated to the cold than Alis would be but even they looked ready to escape the cold winds of the Autumn Court. I wondered how Lucien managed to stay kind in a place like this. 

“It’s the Night Court,” Bron replied sternly. He cast an apologetic glance but I was just grateful he agreed to come too. 

I raised a sound barrier around our small group, needing privacy. “Where we are going, it is warm,” I smiled, enjoying his shock. “Though if you agree to this, there is no turning back. I need you all to swear your silence on this matter.” I feared they’d reject the offer and choose to believe all the rumors. It wouldn’t be the first time that our reputations impacted our relationships and I had to respect whatever they decided on. Alis’s hands squeezed her nephews shoulders. 

“Why?” Bron asked, eyes tired. He’d stood by my side for so many months. Attempted to bring me out of my depression with small attempts like riding, painting and jests. Him and Hart. All that time, believing I was to be his Lady of the Spring Court. That I was madly in love with High Lord Tamlin and that I just needed a helpful hand in the right direction. He had defied Tamlin’s direct orders because he believed in that vision and knew I’d be a good Lady. 

I couldn’t blame him for being disappointed when he found out I had lied, protecting Rhysand and the Night Court. That I was Rhysand’s mate. Seeing that wariness in his eyes would have made me feel less than a month ago. Being forced to cover my tattoo and ignore the bargain like it tainted me had reinforced the image of my victimhood to the Night Court. No longer. I was never meant to be the supplicating Lady of the Spring Court, always beholden the will of others. 

The Night Court freed me to be as I wished. I could be the paradox of containing both darkness and light within. For the people I loved, I was the star that guided them home. For all my enemies, I reserved my darkness. Infinite and unfathomable. 

“Because sometimes secrets protect the people we love, not hurt them,” I sighed out, letting Bron see my honesty and light. “If you chose to remain behind, I will not hold it against you. The offer will always remain.” 

“I trust Lady Feyre,” Sherwood announced, glaring at Bron. “She has risked herself for humans that hated her. That tells me enough of her character.” Oliver and Farrel followed suit. 

“I trust you,” Bron nodded his head. The implication was clear. He trusted me and me alone. Rhysand still remained the cruel and wicked High Lord of the Night Court. Anger pooled hot in my stomach and leashed it quickly. It was _not_ the time for my instincts to make an appearance. My mate had said instincts to the unprepared can take over. I couldn’t make those mistakes. 

“I’m glad,” I said tightly, lowering the sound barrier. I turned to find Amren. Instead, I found Tamlin walking among the Spring Court fae. Apparently, only those assigned to my guard and service had been dismissed. When the barrier came down, he rose to look at me. Taking in the steel breastplate and black clothing underneath. The same judgement I faced at the Spring Court magnified in Tamlin’s glare. I had come a long way from the Lady in the gowns of silk and gossamer he had known. But that woman had never been me. 

She never would have survived the long winters and starvation with my family. She never would have picked up the bow and marched into the woods. Or survived Amarantha’s clutches. Or trained for more battles, more peril. 

_But maybe that woman’s sisters would have been safe,_ my mind insisted and I forced those thoughts away. 

Bron came to stand at my side, easing my anger with the softness of his gesture. Bron’s stance was uncomfortable and awkward, undoubtedly conflicted whether or not he could fight Tamlin. Even for me. “Was it true?” he asked. He glared at Bron but ignored my friend otherwise. His battle was with me. “That some of the humans Hybern took were your sisters?” 

_So he’d listened in_ , I appraised. “Yes.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. 

There was nothing else I wanted to hear from him. My mind was quickly succumbing to the panic of when my sisters had first been taken. That dark fear that my sisters would forever know I failed them when they needed me most. Hot tears came to my eyes. Elain was so still. I had no guarantee she’d ever come out of her mind or if she’d ever want to. Nesta now so much more reserved when I had finally just experienced her warmth. 

Tamlin missed nothing. He was now a pace in front of me, mouth quivering to find the words. “I am sorry Feyre...I didn’t know they-”

“You don’t get to apologize to me,” I shook my head, firming my resolve. His last accusations came to mind about who I would risk myself for. His other accusations not too far behind in my memory. 

“Feyre-”

“That’s Lady Feyre,” Amren’s cold voice sent Tamlin’s back straight. He glared at Rhysand’s second with more courage or stupidity than anyone else had. Amren ignored him after that to focus on me. “Are we done here?” 

“Let's go home,” I entwined my fingers with Alis’s. I needed to spend time with my mate. I needed to see my sisters. Be with my inner circle and feel their blissful acceptance. I spared no glances at Tamlin when Amren winnowed us away. 


	82. Realize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Azriel:**

I admired Nesta’s dedication to watch over her sister. Elain had been sitting still in the afternoon sunlight for a little over an hour and Nesta continued to peer at us from their shared room window. She hadn’t tried to stop me from moving Elain; she looked curious to see how Elain would react. Out of respect, I said to Nesta I’d take her outside and let her know if I took her anywhere else. Nesta’s eyes were watery and she waved me away insistently, before she proceeded to stare at us out on the back patio. 

Elain was feather light in my arms. I would have thought she was hollow or a bird from how weightless she felt. Still small in stature for a fae, she seemed like she hadn’t grown at all from being Made. Nesta had grown taller, even more so than Feyre, but Elain remained tiny. It made me wonder if, for some reason, Elain took longer to transform. 

I sat her in a woven rocking chair and sat next to her. Her eyes were still glazed and blue-ish now to match her sisters. She sat straight in her chair; she could still hold herself upright if need be but it was as if she wasn’t focused on the outside world yet. Like she didn’t care if she laid down or sat up, her mind was focused elsewhere. 

Nesta described Elain like she was absent but Elain’s eyes told me otherwise. They flickered every now and the with slight recognition. Her face perpetually caught in some thought, brows slightly furrowed and lips even a little pursed. Sometimes I thought I saw her lips part to speak but when I’d look, they were still. 

I tried not to study her too hard. She was still with us and I didn’t think she appreciated being watched like a specimen. 

I had doubted Lucien’s initial logic that moving Elain was a good idea but I could see I had been wrong. Elain relaxed into her chair, soaking in the light. Her freckles were a little more pronounced. Instead of hovering, I walked inside to prepare tea. I didn’t think she’d accept any but I’d have some while I wrote letter responses to the High Lords. Feyre and Amren had just posted the notice of the Human Queen’s response and each High Lord’s reply came in nearly a second after. 

When the kettle finished heating over the fireplace, I took out a tray of two cups, loose leaf tea, cream and sugar out. I went back for the hot kettle with a thick towel. Cassian could handle with bare hands logs fresh from a fire, glowing red and white, by siphoning some of his magic. External heat unnerved me so I called my siphons to make my hands so cold that the heat never touched me, even through the cloth. 

I poured tea for Elain and I before mixing cream in sugar into either mugs. I pulled out my satchel of letters, sitting besides Elain and began to read over the High Lord’s responses. They all, of course, demanded to meet today. Some in ways more polite yet firm than others. From that, I knew the letter they’d read had been signed from Feyre. If it had been Rhysand, they would have been forced to treat him more equally. 

Well, they would have been more incentivized to treat him equally as a fellow High Lord. Usually Rhysand’s reputation did away with the niceties. I took note of their language. High Lord Beron’s being the most forward, of course. My magic inadvertently manifested on my skin, coating me in darker shadows. He had gone so far to summon Feyre to his war camp for a meeting. I bristled, shaking away the dark forms. 

They whispered back to me of all the information I had collected on him. Their chatter never ceased, constantly in gleaning information from all the spies I oversaw. Once I had trained a spy, they carried a pendant that looked like a pyramid around their neck. They only needed the pendant if they weren’t a shadow wraith to begin with, like Nuala and Cerridwen. The pendant let my shadows reach them. The pyramid had no bottom and the inside was hollow, creating a perfectly dark space for my shadows to sit inside. I could glean information and then retreat, having never stepped a foot outside my home. 

The barest smile touched my face when I replied that Lady Feyre would not meet with any High Lord until the next day. She would also not accept private audiences and instead call on them for a High Lord’s meeting at her earliest convenience. I worded this as politely as possible and signed my own name. The insult was complete. Feyre could dictate their schedule as she pleased and didn’t need to be bothered by having to reply to them directly, trusting me to do it for her instead. 

“You should spit on Beron’s letter,” Mor came outside to join me and Elain. She circled around the table to perch on it. She wore her armor. She would be going to the war camps today then. She smoothed a hand over Elain’s shoulder in greeting. Elain didn’t reply but her eyes flickered again. 

“I thought about that,” I said. Her hair reflected the sunlight in such a way it looked like a halo had formed. Looking at her hurt from how bright she was. 

“I assume it would be too easy for him to be the rat,” she muttered, inspecting her nails. 

My shadows whispered. “My spies tell me he has not sent a single letter that hasn’t ended in his own territory, read by his own males. His spies have also not winnowed into the Spring territory either,” I shrugged. In all likelihood, the rat didn’t belong to Beron. 

Mor looked disappointed but not surprised. Beron hated fae and human alike and wouldn’t care what Hybern did to them but he revered his seat of power above all else. He would know that no deal with Hybern would keep him the ruler of his territory. 

“Then what of Tamlin?” 

“Tamlin doesn’t write letters, all his standing army is inside the war camp. He winnows to the refugees and sometimes with a troop into the Spring Court, they almost always come back lacking a soldier though.” And covered in grime. Tamlin might not actively partake in the High Lord’s meeting but he very much did so on the retrieval of his own people. Winnowing nearly twice a day into the Spring Court; sometimes coming back with more refugees and sometimes coming back missing a soldier. The male was frantic to retrieve his people. 

I knew that had much to do with losing Feyre. 

“He knew Hybern.” 

“Amarantha tortured him Under the Mountain. I doubt Tamlin recalls fond childhood memories of Hybern anymore.”

Mor sighed, taking my point. “So you’re taking in the sunlight with Elain?” she raised a brow at the two of us. 

“Lucien asked me to bring Elain out of the house.” Mor smiled to Elain but it was tight. She searched out every aspect of Elain with desperation, like she’d find something more. Elain wasn’t there yet. 

“I don’t think either Elain or Nesta slept last night,” she sighed out, so quietly. I knew neither had. But Mor shouldn’t. 

“You weren’t here last night. How would you know?”

She pursed her lips, cheeks heating. “You aren’t supposed to spy on friends.”

I cocked my head. “I wasn’t aware it was spying if you make as much noise as you did. Where did you go?” I had heard Mor’s footsteps in the hallway and the door  _ snicking  _ shut, like we were young again and she wanted to do something without Rhysand knowing. That effort to be quiet only fooled With how Rhysand focused on Feyre, Mor could have been dancing on the roof. 

“So you didn’t send your shadows after me?” she snapped but there was little bite to her words. Mostly, she sounded sad and tired. We stared at each other. In one breath, she let go of all her anger and the pinch of magic she’d summoned with it. Her shoulders sank. “I’m sorry Az.”

I looked at the letters in front of me. I hadn’t sent my shadows after her but not because I respected her privacy. I did, but only so far. My responsibility to these people exceeded that. I only refrained because I had kept my shadows looking after our home, after Nesta and Elain. And Lucien who rested in relative openness. They needed security even if Velaris was safer than anywhere else in the world right now. “Don’t blame me for doing my duty.” 

She looked wounded, eyes softening. “I went to see Cresseida,” she admitted quietly. I didn’t have to check for the sound barrier. Mor’s magic prickled my skin when she raised it, making my shadows hiss in my ears. My shadows were an extension of my own abilities but their mind was second to mine. They took orders from me and I could separate my thoughts from theirs. I could send them anywhere that had a shadow and they would glean secrets for me. Mor’s magic resonated with other fae’s magic, pulling on it to force out any dark spots in it like lies or betrayals. Her magic was at natural odds with mine. 

“Even after she wrote you off?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Out of all the females Mor could have and she chose the emotionally closed-off one. The one with a heart colder than Kallias’s tundra. 

“It changed,” she objected. “I talked to her...before Hybern ambushed us and she sees things differently now. I just wanted to make sure she was safe after that. I didn’t get a chance when Varian barged in like a bull.” 

“That should have told you she was safe enough,” I said flatly. Varian and Cresseida were inseparable in life and almost unconquerable on a battlefield. I said ‘almost’ because since meeting them, I thought of some tactics that I hoped I’d get a chance to deploy. As much as I wished to spar the siblings, I wouldn’t send Mor to their doorstep to rekindle any friendship. “If anyone had seen you watching her, they would think you’re a spy.” 

“I’m aware,” she said sourly but there was no venom. Her eyes were downcast. Even her golden hair had seemed less vibrant in the light. 

Watching her tense up and cross her arms over her chest with defensiveness softened me. Mor hadn’t been close to many females since the human she’d loved centuries ago. She’d found a few male and female lovers but none she grew attached to. Even after all this time and all Kier put her through, Mor was a romantic at heart. She wanted her mate most of all. I always thought Mor would find her partner, mate or not, before Rhysand would. Afterall, Mor had been looking for hers.

_ If Cresseida broke Mor’s heart, I’d skin her myself,  _ I told myself. 

“If you’re going to give her tea, you might as well prepare it right,” I turned to see Nesta marching from the house. For someone with no military training, she knew how to march with precision. Judging from the new dress Nesta wore, Nuala had returned from shopping for Nesta. Cerridwen must still be looking for Elain’s things. Rhysand had thought it best if each sister is looked after separately, not treated like a unit. Afterall, they both had different and adverse reactions to being Made.

Nesta wore a deep blue dress that was similar to a Night Court saree but no midsection exposed. The dress even laced half-way up her neck. She wore a wrap of silver and gold that started at one ankle, wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl and draped over her back. Though the climate was warm enough for the fabric to be thin, hers seemed to be woven wool. But nothing stood out so much as her black gloves that extended so far up her arm, they disappeared under her wrap. 

She came forward to remake Elain’s tea, tossing the old tea off the balcony and then pouring a fresh, steaming cup. Mor and I watched with unveiled interest as she added spoonfuls of sugar, one after the other. “She likes her tea sweet,” Nesta stated. 

“She likes desert is what you mean,” Mor querked a smile. Nesta glared back but it softened as she took in Mor’s hopeful gaze. 

“Yes,” Nesta nodded her head. 

Taking in Nesta’s wardrobe, Mor raised a brow. “Are you cold, Nesta? We could ask Nuala to keep the house warm for you.” 

“A warm house won’t help,” Nesta replied icily. Her temperature sensitivity was an odd side effect of being Made. Elain didn’t seem to mind the climate, at least her hairs on her arm weren’t raised and she didn’t shiver. 

Nesta had burned Feyre with pure magic. It was possible to manifest pure magic in many ways but harder to control. Tamlin had thrown Feyre across a room when he’d lost his temper. Nesta had quickly managed to summon her pure magic and direct it at Feyre, also when she lost control and panicked. Her magic didn’t need to Awaken, she’d been Made and it was already there. There must be some drawbacks to being changed so suddenly and filled with magic. Her newly Made body and supply of magic was currently wreaking havoc in her. Within Elain as well. All magic needed rest, balance and direction. 

How Nesta and Elain would find balance and direction for their magic remained to be seen. For now, I’d give them rest. 

I didn’t know how successful that would be if Elain didn’t eat or drink something soon. Mor said goodbye to us, squeezed Elain’s shoulder, and winnowed away. Nesta smoothed Elain’s hair before going back into the townhouse. I wondered how Elain saw this time. All her friends and family existing around her while she remained still. Did she realize she was missed? Was she trapped, hiding or...dormant? I’d have to ask her when she would answer. 

I would have to be satisfied with the progress she made today. I knew Lucien would be thrilled. Already her cheeks were pink and skin a little warmer. She gazed at the city, unseeing, but her eyes flicked about sometimes. “Would you like tea?” I asked her, not breathing in case I shocked her too much. She didn’t reply. 

When she remained quiet, I scolded myself for pushing her. I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes and basked in the sun for a little. Elain was good company regardless. Knowing she had no fear of my shadows or me deep down relaxed me around her. 

I heard a long sigh. 

My heart skipped. My eyes flung wide open and I glanced around, expecting to see Cassian or Rhysand or Nesta or  _ anyone _ . Even though it would have meant they surprised me. But no one else was on the balcony besides Elain and I. She had sighed. Her eyes still stared ahead but she had given a long, wistful sigh. I glanced around for a second time, looking for anyone who would share my excitement. 

I would have to ask Lucien what other ideas he had. If we got her into a garden, would she move? Lucien was her mate. If she sat with him, would she speak to us? I suddenly needed to speak with Lucien. By virtue of knowing her longer or by being her mate, he had some insight to what would help Elain. 

I found Nesta in the house, reading by the window that overlooked Elain and I. When I walked in, she rose to her feet. She looked out the window at Elain with clear panic on her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Elain sighed a little. I’d like to ask Lucien what else he might have thought of to help Elain. I think bringing Elain to his side would help.” 

“Why?” 

“Because mates are bound by magic. If her magic is causing her to withdraw, then perhaps Lucien could ease that effect.” In my lifetime, I had only made so many mistakes. Most of them were small and easy to fix before anyone could notice. At that moment, I knew I had made a large mistake by the look of shock on Nesta’s face.  _ She hadn’t known.  _ I kept my face neutral, hoping it’s encourage the same with her. 

It did not. 

She stiffened. Her back becoming so straight I felt she might snap. Her hand whitened as it clutched her book. Without any warning her magic snapped in the air. It made a loud crackling noise. I was prepared and raised my siphon-born shields around myself. I’d attempted to push one towards hers but her magic punched holes in mine like my magic was made of mere feathers. Her eyes glowed orange but she closed them, biting her lip. Her face contorted in pain. 

Feet pounded down the hallway. Rhysand and Cassian stood behind me, peering into their bedroom for the second time in twenty-four hours. Both times the cause being Nesta and her magic. 

But as quickly as her magic escaped, she stuffed it back inside. Somehow her instinct directed her and she pulled it all back with efficiency. The air still felt electric. What little I had felt had stung. “I’ll watch over Elain then,” Nesta said like nothing had changed. 

“Are you alright?” Cassian spoke first. My brother: b rave, bold, _and_ stupid. 

“Of course,” she retorted, sounding miffed he had even asked. She moved towards the door and her approach pushed us three to step aside or risk being stung. Cassian followed her. 

“What happened?” Rhysand asked, voice tight. We both looked in the direction Cassian and Nesta had gone. I knew Nesta would be going to sit with Elain. 

“I told her Lucien and Elain were mates.”

Rhys stiffened. “She’s not going to try to...separate the two, is she?” he rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. I raised my brows at him and shook my head. Whatever Nesta’s opinion was, she kept it to herself. “Ah, good. It wouldn’t be fair for me to intercede. Or safe. I’d have to leave that to you, Cassian or Mor.” He never would have asked Amren. Amren’s solution would be a fight to the death. I would have placed good money on Lucien against most opponents but with Nesta’s magic, the odds weren’t favoring him anymore. I had no desire to see my friend splattered with her magic. 

I didn’t want to have to get between Nesta, Elain and Lucien either. “Why?”

“My own mating bond and instincts make me partial to other mates as well. The mere idea of Nesta attempting to separate Lucien and Elain angers me. All I can think of is someone trying to take Feyre,” Rhys went quiet. 

I didn’t need to be daemati to know both our thoughts went to Hybern. “We’ll protect her, Rhys. But more importantly, she’ll protect herself,” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Mother help the fae that tries to hurt her,” he breathed out. 

I couldn’t help but agree.


	83. Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:  
**

Nesta sat with Elain outside, fuming. Elain, on the other hand, had the barest smile on her lips. It had been long since I had seen Elain look so peaceful and I could breathe easier knowing that her mind wasn’t keeping her in hell. When I’d seen her laying on the bed, prone, I’d been struck by a new fear. That we’d freed her physically but mentally, she remained captive. Now, I knew she would be okay. 

We’d find a way to make her happy again.  _ Or Lucien would die trying _ , I thought back to how intense the male had been about her even when he was being prepared for an agonizing night of healing. 

“What?” Nesta hissed from her chair, arms wrapped around herself. 

“Just came to see how you were,” I sighed out, focusing on the Archeron sister that vexed me. I walked around to sit across the two. I still couldn’t get over their fae transition. Nesta was devastating. Her face could rob a fae of their breath. I had been gasping for air since I had seen her. 

It had not escaped my mind that Nesta might have a mate still. I searched for that tug day and night to no avail. I knew hurting whoever was her mate would hurt her ultimately but I still held an irrational amount of hatred for that unknown individual. Hate and jealousy. 

“Cold,” she provided after a pause. About to offer to light yet another fire, I opened my mouth and she cut me off. “I don’t want to be inside. I want to be with Elain.” 

“Elain could come inside too,” I smiled warmly at Nesta. 

But her eyes were focused on Elain. “She is...happier outside,” Nesta replied. So we stayed. 

“What made you so angry?” I blurted. I could already tell she didn’t want to reply. I could hear the  _ nothing  _ off her lips. “Don’t say ‘nothing’,” I gave her a pointed look. Her grey eyes watched me and the new sensation of being bare came over me. Whatever she saw, she saw completely. No amount of guise would fool her.  _ I guess that’s why our banter has died off for now. We aren’t fooling ourselves or eachother any longer.  _

“Azriel told me about Lucien,” she stated, glancing at Elain. My mouth snapped shut. I kept myself still. If I let myself move, I’d throw myself off the balcony. If this was the part where she told me about her mate then I didn’t want to know. I’d have to fight the war far from anyone I cared for to avoid hurting them with my loss and rage. “I don’t...I don’t think I can handle anything else hurting her,” she swallowed. “I shouldn’t see Lucien for a while. I shouldn’t be around people for a while.” Her eyes focused on her arms, wrapping around her midsection tightly. I wondered if she realized that she had spoken. 

I discreetly let go of the breath I had been holding. “Lucien would never hurt Elain,” I said so softly it came out a whisper. If I spoke any louder, she’d shudder. I had seen her wincing at our friends talking. She was good at hiding those reactions now but her ears still twitched a little.

She huffed, her lips curling into a rueful smile. “I didn’t question that.” 

“Then-”

She rose and walked back into the house. I thought she was done with the conversation but she glanced at me before stepping through the door. “One minute,” I said to Elain, hurrying to keep up with Nesta. She was already out the front door. She kept walking, aimlessly through the streets of Velaris. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.  _ Why hadn’t I brought a cloak?  _ The satisfaction of giving something that would comfort her combined with her wearing my scent around would have left me with little to want for in life.

“You didn’t see her when they whipped him,” she said, her voice cold and stiff. We continued to walk without direction. I didn’t care where we ended up.

I swallowed, trying not to think about that night. About how fragile a human life could be. Nesta didn’t look fragile anymore. She’d never appeared delicate but being human had made her seem so small. I knew her bones would snap if she fell wrong. She needed warmth and food or else she’d waste away. Nesta sighed. Her nose was red now from being so cold. “The next time he gets hurt, she’s going to feel it worse. I know it.” 

I grew quiet. “That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be together.” Nesta kept quiet. I could have been hurt by her silence but I felt grateful for it. If she had spoken then, I doubt I would have liked what she would have said. 

Our feet had taken us near the Palace of Bone and Salt but I redirected us towards the Palace of Thread and Jewels. Rhysand had imperial tailors. He had seamstresses that knew if I was a stone too heavy or light for my tunics just by eyeing me. They all were talented and skilled beyond measure, producing fine garments with consistency. But for Nesta, their presence would be intrusive. Even our small inner circle was intense and overwhelming for her burdened senses. I had no doubt if the street was crowded, she’d be struggling internally. 

Instead, I brought us to one Rhysand’s tailor’s for Nesta to peruse their shop. “I can see you shivering,” I shook my head exaggeratedly. She looked at me quizzically. “Pick a cloak.” 

“And what? You’ll just-”

I grinned, knowing that she’d agree immediately to my next statement. “I’ll put it on Rhys’s tab.” 

She didn’t smile but her eyes brightened considerably. She nodded, satisfied with that answer and moved into the store with curiosity. If she heard my slight sound of victory, she didn’t mention it. 

The tailor, Jeriah, saw me and startled. He almost rose from his bench but I shook my head quickly, glaring at him to remain seated. I imagined him bustling over in that well-meaning manner of his and making Nesta retreat like a cat. He looked puzzled but blissfully kept back. Every so often, he’d glance at us. 

I stayed a few paces back and watched Nesta walk among the clothes with interest. She seemed to forget I stood there as she assessed. Though she wore gloves, she rubbed the fabric between her thumb and index. Each cloak she picked, she weighed and drew out to inspect further. 

I almost panicked at the slight tingle of her magic in the air but it seemed to stay content. I didn’t want her to further withdraw herself if her magic got out of control in public. But I realized after a while that her magic rose and decayed in waves. The sensation no longer shocked me but it felt like it rumbled down my skin. I was reminded of a cat’s purr. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. 

She picked out a cloak made of grey wool that was trimmed in red the shade of wine. It was almost like a coat because it had long sleeves but they extended well beyond her hands. It buttoned at the front with silver clasps. “Are you trying to drown yourself in fabric?” I smiled, noticing how heavy it must be. “Those sleeves are long enough to swallow you whole.”

She glowered at me, lips pursing. I focused on the movement, breathing her scent in heavily. Her raw emotion was intoxicating. The fact that it now was mixed with magic only made it more vivid to my senses. “No but they are long enough to strangle you.” 

My eyes became electric with intrigue. “Oh, promise?” 

Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide with insult. I expected anger. I expected cursing. And magic. So I was surprised by the flush of her cheeks that extended to the tips of her ears. Her shock faded into a wide smile that slowly took on a feral look. “I promise.” 


	84. Link

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:  
**

Sweat coated my back. The healers had done their best to pull my hair back but stray hairs clung to my damp skin. All my back muscles were on fire. I’ve experienced muscle aches, stab wounds, and beatings but none of them had burned quite like this. The fresh, new skin formed on my back was so taut the slightest movement felt like it would tear the skin apart. But it had been made apparent that if my skin and muscle were to reform properly, they needed to be exercised. 

Two healers, Madja and her apprentice Mattan, had to help me to sit and then I’d lift my legs, attempting to keep them stable. Yesterday, I hadn’t even gotten to lifting my legs. Just keeping myself upright was a challenge with all my core muscles working on overdrive. 

Mattan only offered comfort once. He said if the whip had been coated in faebane, I’d have likely died that night. Madja had been a little more sympathetic. The two had replaced my other healers as Rhysand assigned them to watch over my healing. He’d offered to have me moved to the townhouse so I could heal there but I had immediately shot that down. If he had been riled by my rejection, he didn’t show it. 

It would have brought me closer to Elain which I wanted more than anything else. But not until I was healed. It had been torture that every moment since the mating bond had snapped taut, all my thoughts had found their way back to her. _My mate._ When I had confessed my indiscretions to Feyre, my thoughts had been wholly focused on how that would hurt Elain. Even when the healers had drugged and healed my back, I refused falling unconscious for as long as I could for fear it would take me further from Elain. I needed to heal now so I could get back to her. Everything I was doing I was doing for her.

Before Hybern had taken us, I had been consumed by the knowledge I’d never be good enough for her. Having no wealth, title or Court to call home would only hurt Elain. Not because she’d care for those things but because without any of those, I would have been painting a sizable target on her back and having no ability to protect her from it. 

Hybern had proven that. 

My brothers would  _ vie  _ to get their hands on her. I had four living brothers and only one of me. They would hunt until they got their prey. I could do my best to protect her but it would only take one moment of vulnerability. 

I closed my eyes, thankful that for the moment Elain and I were leagues away from their sadistic ways. 

The safest thing before had been to watch Elain live her life without the burden of being involved with me. But now that I knew Elain was my mate, I couldn’t afford to step away. I would need to become everything necessary for her to live a long and happy life.  _ Even if she decided she didn’t want me. _ That new fear had cropped up somewhere over the course of the days I’d been away from her. She’d kissed me like she wanted to be with me but a lot had changed since then. I wasn’t the same person and she wouldn’t be either, according to Azriel’s retellings at least. 

Faithfully, Azriel had come after spending time with Elain prepared with notes for me. He recorded details so meticulously, I was almost surprised he hadn’t also recorded her thoughts as well. We worked out together how best to help her. Moving her into the sunlight and orchards in Velaris, the Night Court city we had been winnowed to, seemed to revive her to the point where she’d sometimes sip tea or eat almonds and dates. Though her mind remained distracted by something else. Azriel said she looked almost confused when she took her teacup in hand. Only by intense focus would she complete the simplest of tasks and Azriel never interrupted those moments by speaking. Nights were invariably the hardest for her to rejoin us; she’d recede further into her mind until the dawn was past. 

Azriel had seized upon her progres and now pushed to bring her to me. I almost accepted immediately. My instincts took over and all I could think of was seeing her again. I could have started wars over seeing her in that moment and that had been precisely why I delayed the moment. I hated myself for the rest of the day for doing so but I knew it had been necessary. I wouldn’t allow myself in the same room as her until I was healed and in control of my instincts. I knew I’d never hurt her but I didn’t want her to see me so weakened and reduced. Not as the first introduction to me as my mate. I couldn’t do that to her.

So I had refused Azriel’s request. I adamantly dug my feet in and prepared myself for a long argument. He hadn’t fought back though. I had been prepared for a battle and Azriel had conceded before the first charge had begun. He accepted my wishes with a dutiful nod and left. I had been so consumed with hating myself that I hadn’t questioned his response. Until the next day when he had asked again. Even when I refused again, he’d accepted and left. Each night we repeated this and each night I hated myself a little bit more. By not seeing her, I could be inadvertently hurting her. She was progressing and I was stalling it. 

Finally, last night I had asked him. “Why aren’t you arguing with me?” I snapped. He’d nodded his head in the same  _ dutiful  _ way as all the night prior. If I saw that nod another day, I’d find a way out of this bed to knock him out flat. “I’ve not even given you a reason for saying no and you’re just  _ accepting  _ it,” I hissed, chest heaving so harshly that my back burned. 

He quirked a small smile and raised a brow. I knew I’d been had. Somehow, walking into whatever plan he’d concocted. “I’ve watched Rhysand battle his instincts for a little under three months now,” he examined his blade at his hip, sliding it back into it’s sheath when he was satisfied. “I knew it was only a matter of time before yours wore you down,” he shrugged. When he met my eyes again, he flashed a cocky smile that I thought must be a rare occurrence indeed. “I’ll bring Elain by tomorrow afternoon then?” 

I almost nodded my head. “No,” I sighed. This time, he did look prepared to debate me. But I continued on, “I’ll go to her. She shouldn’t have to come here.” 

Azriel considered me a moment. “Can you stand?” He squinted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel had needed me to stand long enough for him to winnow us across Velaris. But as someone who had just recently conquered sitting up  _ and  _ lifting their legs at the same time, standing almost made me lose consciousness. Azriel had been a good sport and winnowed me while I sat on the bed. But when we arrived in the townhouse, it took him supporting the majority of my body weight until he could sit me down. He’d gotten me a towel as I had erupted into heavy sweats from the strain that threatened to make me black out.

Then, to my infinite relief, he hadn’t mentioned the fact that I’d not only soaked my clothes with sweat but his tunic as well. He only handed me the towel with a small shrug. I barely had a moment to question the beautiful city beyond the patio before the door had opened and my mind ceased to process. 

Honeysuckle coated the breeze and I breathed it in deeply. If I thought my back had burned before, then I was sorely mistaken or delusional. The moment I saw her, I was on fire. Every fiber was pushing me to move but my injuries prevented it; my wrecked body couldn’t handle the internal struggle. Another sweat broke across my forehead and I swallowed heavily, attempting to tamp down on all instincts. 

Cerridwen guided her to sit in the chair besides me before stepping away. Elain was simultaneously too close and all too far from me. I didn’t know what to focus on before. The dappled freckles on her cheeks, proof of her time in the sun. Or the way her lips played at a smile. Her eyes were far off and with that small smile, it looked like she recalled a fond memory. Her hair hadn’t been braided like it normally was and the sun illuminated each color, from the bronze strands to the tawny ones. 

Someone, likely Nesta, must have guided Cerridwen on Elain’s wardrobe as she was dressed in another long gown shaded in soft pink. If it hadn’t been for the tipped ears poking out from her curtain of hair, I’d have thought we were back in the Human Realm. Where I watched her tend her garden in shades of yellows and pinks. 

The gown was loose and long-sleeved, with a wide neck that only went to her shoulders. I had to tear my eyes away from the expanse of flawless skin there. My throat was too dry. If someone struck a match, I’d surely be set on fire. 

Her head had been tipped downwards but it slowly lifted, tilting towards the sunlight. Her brown eyes were almost blue, covered in a fog. I leaned my head on the back of my chair and drank in her presence. I hadn’t noticed when Azriel and Cerridwen left us. I barely noticed the sun crossing the sky above us. Between my body and my instincts, there was little left of me and I let all that remained focus on her. 

In my tired haze, I started talking about Velaris. I hadn’t seen any of it besides the insides of that room that had made a makeshift healer’s wing. Now that I could see it, I was awestruck. I had almost doubted this was the Night Court. I told Elain everything I saw. Each home seemed to belong to a different Court. I could hear fae from the streets, chatting eagerly with each other or laughing together. In the distance, I could see the blue glimmer of flowing water. A beautiful river bisected the city and made for the ocean. Even though Winter was here, it’s harsh winds didn’t wear on this city. Instead, the people of Velaris brought out their harths and gathered around them with spiced ale and seasoned food. The smell of mulled wine reminded me of home and I wondered if fae from all Courts were welcomed here. I found the answer to that when I saw humans walking the street as well as fae. All these details I fed to Elain and touched upon how I had never known this city to exist until we came to it. 

“Are you real?” my back muscles seized at her voice and I winced, trying to prevent the spasm from rocking my body. Elain was staring at me with those doe-eyes and I knew she saw me and was here. I knew my mate had somehow left the workings of her mind to find me next to her. She was here. Her eyes were brown again and every fleck of gold in them shimmered. And they stared at me. 

I didn’t know what response I could give that would be convincing. Instead, I lifted my hand slowly so her eyes could track the progress. I reached over, mindful of both our wounded selves. My hand slipped over hers and I loved how her’s fit against mine. She stared at our connected hands and sighed out. 

“Are you here?” I whispered back. 

She looked from our hands to my eyes. They’d changed since the last night I spent with her. Then, they had been caught in the present with me. As I took them in, I knew they’d become deeper with experience and wisdom. She’d lived a thousand lifetimes after what she had seen within her own mind. “For now, I think,” she replied softly. 

“Stay with me?”

I’d meant in the moment. The way her eyes softened and her lips curled into a small smile, I knew the question had grown in weight. She intertwined her fingers with mine and pressed our hands together. “For as long as I can.” 

Her eyes remained brown for the rest of the day. Only after dark had settled in did they glaze over and I felt the pull on my heart. I could feel her magic thrum next to mine and I felt when the visions took her. I wanted to follow her to whatever place she went to and protect her there too. 


	85. Mate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title says it all so...
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

My temper was still hot by the time we winnowed to the Spring Court. We had just left the fourth meeting with the High Lords pertaining to meeting with the Human Queens; each meeting had become increasingly frustrating. I would normally deal with the High Lords but the Human Queens made a demand that they refused to back down from: they would only speak with Feyre.

I cursed myself for that turn of events I had somehow missed foreseeing. 

They expected a reply in time for the meeting they scheduled at the quarter moon which was in a week. Feyre was to travel to meet them and they made it clear that they would not host a High Lord on the continent. Some of my instincts growled at that.

Though them refusing to give us their piece of the Book would spell certain destruction for them, they decided that this was the one scruple they were prepared to die over. I switched between hating them and admiring them for it. Knowing the High Lords, I knew why they refused their company. The moment they brought out the Book, the High Lords would take it and the Human Queens would have no control. In the same breath, we didn’t have time for their fears. 

That also meant we didn’t have time for the High Lords to argue over their audacity. 

If it was solely up to me, I would have Azriel winnow Feyre to their continent and they’d sit for a discussion. Azriel wouldn’t be lying when he said he was to guard Feyre’s interests as I’d have a hard time sending her half a world away during a war without protection. But the Human Queens had been smart. They knew how to bargain with the fae. They all agreed that they’d only consider giving us the Book if we could provide them with something that would guarantee them the Book’s safe return or take it’s place should the Book be destroyed. 

This was the crux of every argument. No High Lord was thrilled they might need to part with something just as valuable as the Book of Breathings. To ensure they wouldn’t need to sacrifice, they lied. More than eager to offer gold, jewels and priceless heirlooms, none of them had offered a single object of actual power. Like dragons, they guarded their den of relics with ferocity. 

It was beginning to feel like a lost cause. It wouldn’t be enough that one High Lord sacrificed something; there would be nothing stopping the remaining six from betraying the rest and taking the piece of the Book for their own. We all needed to sacrifice something or they would never be assured of our complete cooperation. 

Then Feyre over dinner one night with Cassian, Azriel and Mor, to my infinite horror, had suggested that maybe she should remain as their ward. Mor had spat all her food out and it splattered Cassian. Mor began to cough and hack, slamming her chest to choke up a chewed piece of beef. Cassian hadn’t noticed. He was too busy gaping at Feyre. Azriel’s head had retracted like she had swung at him. We all were agape and speechless. All thoughts had flown from my head and fear over my mate’s life was the only reason my heart still beat at all. 

Continuing like she hadn’t suggested one of the most terrifying possibilities, she began to tell us what my  _ darling _ Second in Command had told her. My hands laid flat on the table and I kept my magic bottled tightly. If I let even a little of it slip, I’d wreck mountains fighting Amren. In a single night, all of Prythian would be destroyed in a battle between Amren and I. 

Amren had postulated that Feyre’s magic was more heavily tied to the High Lords than we initially thought. Feyre had reasoned that if she went to the Human Queens and stayed as a ward, she could find a way to pull on their magic.  _ Make them all behave in a way _ , she had thought aloud. My eyes wanted to bleed red at the idea of my mate tugging on the bond between her and the other High Lord’s. My heart and lungs wanted to seize at how that would make her the direct enemy to each High Lord. My hands begged to winnow her into an isolated corner of this world and impress on her the importance of never speaking those words again the rest of her long life.

“Are we sure Amren isn’t working for Hybern?” Mor spat, wiping her mouth after her coughing fit. Her face was bright red. Azriel offered his own napkin to Cassian at the mess. “That is...that is the  _ singular _ , best tactic I’ve ever heard to get you killed.” Mor was glaring pure venom at Feyre. Though we sat besides each other, I never had felt further from my mate. In a moment, I was back in Amarantha’s Court and watching the Attor beat Feyre until she lost consciousness. Forced to grin at the blood that poured out of every wound and utterly helpless to stop the flow. 

Feyre’s face fell at Mor’s words but ultimately hardened. Her eyes became determined and I closed mine. I found Feyre was most capable when she had a point to prove. My mate was nothing if not persistent. “We don’t have a choice. None of the High Lords are exactly giving us one.” 

“That does not mean you extend your neck for the axe,” Mor snapped back.

“Mor,” Cassian warned, chin jutting to me. Mor blanched, murmuring her apologies. “No High Lord would let you walk away after that, Feyre,” Cassian sighed. 

Feyre furrowed her brows. “Even if our lives might be tied?” The conversation continued to pull at me, piece by piece. Amren’s theories were terrorizing me. That there was a very real possibility Feyre could inherit a Court without an heir. It was unlikely any High Lord would die without an heir but that didn’t matter. Not to them. That she could take their lands from their lineage was enough to make her their enemy. If the magic of theirs she commanded hadn’t already done that.

Feyre only meant to create a solution and I couldn’t blame her for it. I also could not help the way my heart slammed against my ribcage and cold sweats ran down my back. Feeling my panic, she slipped her hand into mine and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what else to do. We can’t waste anymore time on this,” she sighed out, face crestfallen. 

“We’ll find a different way,” Azriel nodded, attempting confidence that no one at the table possessed. 

“One that doesn’t involve any more sacrifice,” Mor added bitterly before leaving the tent. Cassian and Azriel had promised they would stay with her during the night. I had pulled Feyre into my lap and held her tightly. I could smell the salt from her unshed tears. I knew that my arms around her were impossibly rigid but she didn’t complain. If anything, she returned the gesture and clung to me just as fiercely. We slept that night wrapped up in each other and refusing to let go. 

In the morning, grim reality had settled back in at the fourth High Lord’s meeting where no progress had been made. Again. 

It was cut short by the planned excursions into the Spring Court to hunt Hybern’s troops and reclaim the southern border of the Summer Court. With a look to me, Feyre had winnowed away with Azriel and I had gone, taking Cassian with me. All my fears over losing Feyre and anger at the High Lords for their selfishness was coming to a head. 

I took it out on every one of Hybern’s soldiers. I held all my magic back in favor of hacking them to pieces like I could personally warn Hybern what would become of him. All the ways I imagined killing him and none would ever suffice. I wanted to take Hybern alive back to the Court of Nightmares and let him live out his years being tortured. I had a list of acts I’d commit personally and the rest I would leave to the remaining Court denizens. I wanted to believe that if Hybern was punished harshly enough, I’d somehow remove the partial smear to my own name.

Cassian knew better than to try to pull me from my rage. Having his own fair share of instincts and knowing the pain of them being riled, he accepted the state I was in. He recognized the pain of helplessness and the futile solution my bloodlust offered. As I attacked, Cassian watched my back faithfully until I could return to the world. Even my Illyrian legion knew my mood and kept nearly a league west of where Cassian and I marched. None of the soldiers I felled restored me to myself. Killing them wouldn’t stop this war and it all felt hopelessly futile. I could tell myself that a single solider dead was another that couldn’t reach Feyre but as one died, ten more came to replace them. 

It was while we broke our forward march for a brief rest that Feyre reached out.  _ I believe we found a messenger’s outpost. One troop.  _ Messenger outposts were checkpoints that messengers used to rest between winnows. Not many fae retained a High Lord’s magical wealth that allowed them to winnow across continents. 

“Feyre says she found a messenger’s outpost with a troop guarding it,” I said to Cassian while he finished his waterskin. “It might be worth taking if it holds some messages.” Hybern would never use the outpost again but if it contained even a single letter, it could prove worthwhile.

Water dripped from his chin and he wiped at it. “No, it’s not a messenger’s checkpoint,” he wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t leave a single troop to guard it. Hybern wouldn’t leave his master plans so unguarded.” 

I nodded.  _ Cassian says it’s not a messenger’s outpost. Not with a single troop to guard it. _

_ I don’t like to argue with my elders but I’m watching a messenger strap their satchel on,  _ Feyre said in a way that let me know she was smiling proudly, knowing she was needling at Cassian’s pride. 

“She says she sees a messenger,” I sighed to Cassian, wiping sweat and blood that wasn’t mine off my forehead. The air was cool from the winter in the Spring Court but from our progress and my bloodlust, we might as well have been in the Summer Court’s desert. My tunic clung to my body and itched at me. I refused to readjust my armor out in the open but I was half-convinced I’d tightened the buckles too much in my haste that morning.  _ I should have let Feyre do it for me _ , I chastised myself. But we had almost been late to the High Lord’s meeting and anytime she put her hands on me, time ceased to exist. 

Cassian huffed a laugh, dragging a hand over his cheek. “Then she’s the luckiest fae on earth. We always get the boring parts of the woods,” Cassian bit out, waving his arms about dramatically. For the past hour, we’d only seen a few skirmishes with the stray soldier and half-formed troops. “There isn’t anything or anyone here for leagues. Seriously, I don’t understand how she always manages to locate the treasure trove,” he shook his head, thinking it over. 

Both our heads picked up at the same time. Cassian opened his mouth. I didn’t even wait to hear what would confirm my fears. I only lunged at him and winnowed to where I knew Feyre’s legion had been assigned to, leaving behind my own troop.  _ It’s a trap, Feyre,  _ I nearly screamed down our bond. 

_ Figured that one out a little too late,  _ she gritted back, undoubtedly defending herself at the moment. 

_ We’re coming _ , I promised. Already, I had spoken to Azriel’s mind and called him to her side. I grabbed Cassian’s pauldron and winnowed the two of us through the woods until we could hear the clash for ourselves. What had appeared as a simple messenger’s outpost with a single troop assigned to protect it had been a nicely laid trap. There must have been at least nine times the original count of soldiers lying in wait. The field was a cluster of Illyrians and Hybern’s soldiers and screaming. 

Silver flickered in the sunlight and Feyre was carving her way across the fray. With ease, she swung her shortsword in confident strokes that I recognized to be Cassian’s handiwork. Then she’d switch and unsheath her dirk, forcing it through the gaps in armor that was purely Azriel. Her approach to battle didn’t have a single motion to it but instead whatever style suited her best. 

“Fuck, she always gets the interesting battles,” Cassian cursed but he had a wild smile plastered on his face. His eyes also followed Feyre and he must have felt the same pride I felt too. He unsheathed his twin swords and skimmed them against each other, sending orange sparks into the air. Red light flashed from his siphons in time to the beating of his heart. 

“Remind me to send you on vacation after all this is done,” I sighed. 

He grinned back at me. “It’s only a vacation if Nesta comes along. Otherwise it’s just a fancy new place with the same old shit.” When I thought of Feyre, I could see what he meant with perfect clarity. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Full dark had descended when Feyre and I dragged ourselves out of a meeting with Helion and Kallias about the messages we captured from the outpost. The battle had taken less time than the meeting had. I found that to irritate me the most. I had hoped I’d get another dinner with my inner circle. Though in all likelihood, Cassian had begged Azriel or Mor to winnow him to the Night Court to see Nesta. 

We still had to scrub the dirt from the fight off of us. Feyre had seen the longest part of the battle; her black armor and tunic were covered in a brown cake of mud and splattered with blood. Her hair that she braided back was flattened to her forehead by the sweat and mud. But her cheeks remained red and freckled with life. Blue eyes vibrant and taunting. She was pleased with the day. Even beneath the layers of grime diluting her scent, I could still smell her satisfaction. 

She was bewitching when she spoke to Helion and Kallias. Even in her state of mess. With confidence, she suggested theories to the puzzles Hybern’s messages posed. When corrected or rebuffed, she shrugged and continued to work the problem without any visible disheartenment. Watching her tackle each obstacle made me understand how she had come to offer herself as a ward to the Human Queens. She wanted this war to be over just as much as I did and was willing to break away pieces of herself to do it. I saw my mate who knew the price of this war continuing on any longer. Who had felt it personally and continued to struggle over how it had impacted her sisters. With their increasing progress as given by Azriel, the hold on her heart had eased a little.

I checked the instincts that demanded I pull her close, knowing if I did then I’d never let her go. 

We walked to the Andros by the scarce light provided by the sliver of moon in the sky. Even two separate baths wouldn’t help our current state of affairs. We linked arms; partly because we could barely hold ourselves up and partly because we both craved each other’s nearness.

Once at the shore, we braved the chill water to cast off our armor and tunics. In the night, all my senses were at their peak so I had no worries for stray eyes. I put up a ward for good measure anyway; my protectiveness aimed more at Feyre’s modesty than my own. Though she shed all of that around me. We both did. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, chin barely above the water. Her eyes trained on me. The blueness shimmered in the dim moonlight. I could see each shade of blue. 

I looked up from wiping mud from my neck. I raised my brows. “For what?” I asked softly, approaching her submerged shadow in the water. She stilled in the water. I had a feeling she wrapped her arms around her waist as some form of comfort. 

“For last night,” she whispered. My shoulders sank. The darkness surrounding my mind from the prior night was fresh again inside me. Like reopening a wound, the pain was still acute. “I worried you. Worse than my first battle in the Spring Court. I felt your panic and your fear and I...I...I’m sorry,” she finished, her focus downcast. 

She didn’t resist when I pulled her flush against me. “You do not need to apologize to me,” I pressed my lips to the crown of her damp head. Lilac embraced my senses. As much as her scent impacted me, mine did her. She relaxed considerably, even in the chill water. “Cassian, Azriel and Mor might benefit from an apology,” I sighed out. She nodded her head, listening to me. Her face was pressed against my chest, ear to my heartbeat. “They haven’t...healed from Under the Mountain.” 

“They weren’t there...I didn’t see them,” her quiet voice was smaller when she spoke about Amarantha and our time Under the Mountain. 

“No. They spent the fifty years in Velaris. In the Night Court,” I almost trembled at the thought of what could have happened if that hadn’t been the case. I suppressed those fears.  _ She was dead.  _ Feyre, sensing my thoughts, rubbed comforting circles into my back. “But when Amarantha had stripped our powers, the night she tricked us, I had used the last breath of mine to speak to them. I told them she had us. That they needed to protect Velaris. And that was all I had time to say to them because all my remaining power I used wiping their memories from the other High Lord’s minds.” Each High Lord must know by now what I had done to protect my court. None of them could see my inner circle without knowing I had sliced out those memories to keep my court safe. Though I never was blamed for my actions in doing so as much as it invaded them. They would have done the same after all, given the chance. 

I cleared my throat. “So you see, they don’t exactly enjoy the idea that their Lady is just as willing to become Prythian’s next sacrifice,” my voice was hoarse. She had already been at the altar once. I would do everything to keep her away from it again. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I know.” 

“I want to be with you...not on a battlefield,” she sighed out. 

“And you will. We will. I still have plans to bring you to all corners of this world,” I smiled at those thoughts. After the war, we’d ignore the entire continent of Prythian and find an island somewhere. I’d find one even if I had to make one myself and I’d spend every day on it with her. Just basking in her and the quiet. 

She lifted her head from my chest, pulling my face down to meet hers. Her hands were chill against my cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the small stubble that had formed. “I don’t want to wait for that day,” she shook her head, eyes steady. In them were assurances and promises that I had been dying to hear from her since I had laid eyes on her. Thousands of dreams that matched mine in their intensity and foolhardiness. I understood her desiring a future that would take the both of us to create. We’d only greet the world we wanted through our combined efforts. 

We crashed against each other like waves on a shoreline. Her lips were soft and firm against mine. Both begging for more and taking all I had. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me to her with no intent of letting me go. Her fingers entwined with my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. The other hand traced tantalizing circles on my shoulder blade. Everywhere our skin touched radiated heat. The cold water at our hips keeping me from burning. 

I reached beneath the surface of the water to wrap a hand under her thigh. I squeezed the tender flesh behind her upper thigh. Knowing what I wanted without asking, she wrapped her legs around my waist and firmly pressed my cock between us. She moaned into my mouth at the contact, hot breath skittering over my lips. I eagerly massaged her thighs and ass, knowing it drove her mind wild. Her hips bucked against mine and this time it was my turn to moan. I didn’t know when my wings had pulled free from the magic that hid them but her hands seized the opportunity. A cruel finger dragging along the inner membrane like a soft breath blown up my spine. 

Her lips slanted over mine, our tongues dancing. Trying fervently to close the distance that had felt insurmountable at times. But we were together and  _ here _ and I didn’t have to let her go anymore. My heart pounded against my rib cage. I felt breathless. 

She rubbed against me, leaving a slick trail across my member and lower abdomen that had nothing to do with the Andros. Laughing wickedly at the elicited moan from me, I bent her chin back to nip and kiss at her neck. I dragged my tongue up her pulse until I could nibble at the lobe of her ear until she panted, chest heaving into mine. Her inner thighs trembled around me and she moaned something incoherent which I echoed myself. I captured her breast between my lips, savoring the taste of her skin with the freshwater. How all that had been left was her unadulterated scent of lilac that grew heady in the Summer Court air. Everything about her called to me and pulled me to her side.

My magic was coiled tight inside of me, thrumming in unison with hers. The two of us echoed sentiments and passions until we came together; all our instincts urging us forward. Fear and anger were background to what went between us. At the end of the day, it only mattered that we were together and if that was the case then tomorrow would be alright. 

My tauntings of her flesh had stoked her frustration at the growing pressure of her own arousal. She nipped hard at my shoulder until the slight sting brought me from my own worship of her body. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure. Her lips were so swollen from our intense kisses that they begged for further abuses. I could read the pleading in her face; she mirrored my own desires. There wasn’t time in the world for all our desires so we would enjoy the time we had and not waste a second of it. 

I wanted to winnow her across the continent but Velaris’s wards remained up and I was in no state to communicate with Amren. The House of Wind prevented winnowing and flying naked was not an experience I desired just yet. So I winnowed to our current home, our tent in the war camp. If Feyre cared a lick for where we appeared, she didn’t show it. Her lips remained adhered to my neck, surely bruising the skin with small bites that elicited groans from deep inside me. Her other hand snaked down my spine and massaged the area with deft fingers. Only until I laid her on the bed did her lips come off my skin with a  _ pop _ . 

Her cheeks were stained red and eyes caught in some lust-filled haze. Something cunning and wicked growing inside of her. She smiled at me, pushing me up from where I knelt over her and between her legs. She rose to sit in front of me and with eyes trained on mine, slid her lips down my length. I cursed, tilting my head back. She ran her tongue over my shaft before taking me down to my navel. My hand fisted in her damp hair, resisting the urge to keep her there. She licked once and I bucked. A low laugh sounded from her throat and I looked to see triumph in my mates eyes. She took me in several more times, hands caressing my hip and balls. But not once did her eyes leave mine, reminding me in one gesture:  _ You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine.  _

Not willing to act the green boy I once had been, I bit my cheek and removed her mouth from my cock with reluctance. She leaned back on her elbows, legs bent at her side and open to me. Only when she pouted, eyes suggestively moving to my cock, did I lick my fingers and place them between her legs, sinking into her warmth. She threw her head back, moaning at the intrusion. A smile playing at her lips. Chest heaving and nipples taut in the night air. I’d remember her lust-ravaged body for the rest of my life. 

I pumped my finger inside her before inserting a second. “You’re teasing me,” she whispered hoarsely, my thumb circling her clit with rough abandon. I took a nipple into my mouth, curling my fingers inside her at the same time. 

“Now I’m teasing you,” I whispered against her flesh. She moaned her response and thrust a hand into my hair, pressing my head further into her breasts. All the need that she showed was a balm to all my instincts that demanded I take her. Her begging whispers spoke to me and drew me in further. Only her pants and the obscene noises of her slickness filled the tent; their rhythm attuned to our synced heartbeats. 

“Rhysand,” she panted. 

“Yes, Feyre darling?” I was delighted by her pleading. How she wantonly ground her hips into my hand. All of it urged me forward. I dragged my tongue between the clefts of her breasts, sinking my fingers as deep as they could go. A cry tore from her lips. I pressed my thumb harder against her clit. Her demands turned into prayers.

She lifted her head and pulled my face to meet hers, lips falling against mine. Her teeth bit my lower lip harsh enough to draw blood. Like a reprimand and a reward. Her eyes meeting mine with the barest of challenges, defiant even as I played with her nerves and left her begging. Her dare had me pulling my fingers from her and tearing another cry of alarm from her lips. I pulled her hips towards mine, hands cupping her ass. She laughed at the movement, joyous and kind. Her eyes lit with pleasure and happiness, skin glowing in the dim tent. I settled between her hips and positioned my cock at her lips, eliciting another delicious moan from her lips. I pushed into her with slow resolve, inching into her warmth. Both of us groaned at the contact, her forehead falling against my shoulder. “I love you.” 

“And I love you,” I replied, the words were the easiest ever to pass my lips.

When I was fully inside her, she bucked her hips and drew my mouth against hers. Her hand cupped my chin and fingers laid over my ear. Tenderly kissing me while we moved together in unison like we had been born to be with each other. Our rhythm extended beyond our bed until our lives danced in sync with one another; our meeting was the collision of two swirling bodies that finally had met at the center. I drew out and surged forward in one fluid motion. 

She groaned into my ear, “Fuck.” 

And the tenderness transformed into the satisfaction of all our instincts and desires. Her nails clawed at my shoulder. I grabbed her ass, pulling her forward to meet my thrusts. Our moans drowned in the sound of skin slapping, her core leaking fluid down her thighs. I entered her roughly and took all I could from the pleasure that was her body. She urged me forward, legs tightly wrapped around my waist without any hope of letting go. Both of us were working towards a crescendo. Our movements became more frantic to find that completion. The smell of salt, lilac and citrus filling the air. Hands pulling each other closer until we were one body. Her fingers brushed my wing. Another reached to urge me forward into her, pushing at my ass. 

I pounded into her and she met me, thrust for thrust. The both of us searched each other for that completion. The blinding light that seized my mind and had us moaning each other’s names into the night. She cried out my name while she came and I followed her into that bliss, praising the devastated look on her face. 

Even after I had come, I still moved inside her. Her core had weeped hot fluids against me. My chest, slick with sweat, moving over hers. I wrung the last of her pleasure from her until her legs trembled around mine. Until she pressed her lips against mine, claiming me for herself. 


	86. Adjust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Rhysand laid on top of me, burying his face at the junction of my neck and shoulder. His breath skittered over my skin, cooling the hot flesh. Hearing his answering groans to mine had pushed me to climax twice. My heart was still pumping as if I’d run the length of the continent twice. My head was so light, I thought I was going to pass out.

It was the mating bond that kept me suspended in disbelief. Before, my instincts and our mental bond had drawn me to him; now I could feel that tug from inside me. It was the same sensation as being watched but comforting to me, like I was being held as well. I knew instantly in a crowd I’d be able to find him. Blind, deaf or immobile I’d be able to reach him through that bond. Reaching for him through that bond was just like reaching inside myself for my magic or our mental connections, except touching that bond also appeased all my instincts. They hummed their contentment like I’d finally shrugged the weight of the world from my shoulders. 

Rhysand lifted his head to place a wet kiss on my lips; because we both were grinning like fools, it turned into us mashing our faces together. His violet eyes were illuminated in the dark in a way I’d never seen before. My skin radiated a soft light, casting a glow on the rest of the tent. “I love how you use my magic,” he said, eyes trailing over my body. Heat pooled anew in my body even though my slit was still weeping. 

“Night Court magic?” I raised a brow to the light coming off me. “What if it’s the Day Court magic?” I teased.

His face flattened and he licked his lower lip, “Feyre darling,” he crooned. My toes curled and I nodded my head, humming in response. “Even if I weren’t still inside you, don’t you think I would know what magic my mate is using?  _ Especially _ ,” he dragged out each word, pressing kisses across my collarbone. Moans escaped my lips and I tilted my head back, begging him to press kisses there. He was already ready for more, hips slowly rocking forward into mine. I wasn’t cowed by the lewd noises we created or the eager way I met his slow thrusts. I was only encouraged and rewarded by my mate. “When it’s my  _ own _ magic?” 

I laughed lowly. “It’s not yours if it’s inside me now,” I taunted, watching with glee as he took the double meaning. 

He nipped the tender flesh of my breast. “Seeing as you are mine...” he trailed off. The heat of the room had barely dipped. The sweat coating us hadn’t yet dried. There had been a brief moment of quiet but we were matching each other’s intensity yet again. 

“I think you have that backwards,” I moaned out. The air was thick with sweat and our scents; I breathed it in deeply. My hands taunted his wings, enjoying how they tensed and jumped at my delicate prodding. His eyes darkened and he pulled my hands above my head, pinning them there with his left hand. His other hand went to where we joined and lifted my leg by the knee, spreading my legs for him. Both of us sighed out the new closeness. 

He laughed softly in my ear, “I don’t think so.” His thrusts eliciting moans from me that I didn’t care to curb. When I didn’t concede, he pushed me to by pulling out and turning me onto my knees. Entering me from behind and tearing my surrender from my lips with his savage pace. 

Though I hadn’t let that continue so long. No sooner had we reached our climaxes did I guide him onto his back and slip myself back onto his member. He protested the position that so obviously pinned his wings but his hands found my hips anyway. The wide reach of his hands nearly encompassed my waist and guided me as I rode him. My hands braced my body on his chest, nails dragging over the skin. From my viewpoint, I could see the several bruises I had placed along his neck and shoulder though they blended well with his whirling tattoos. 

I had thought to revisit the question of just which one of us truly belonged to the other but all words left my mind. His thumb found my clit and rubbed teasing circles around the bud. I had no focus besides what he did to me. I could only watch my grinning mate while he proudly brought me waves of pleasure. I made sure to ride him just as well, dragging out my movements to bring him on the precipice before granting him release. His moans were all I needed to appease my riled pride. 

I laid down on his chest and his cock slid from me, fluids dripping onto his lower abdomen. My legs were barely strong enough to wrap around his waist. His arms came around me and pulled me closer. “I am yours just as well,” he yawned, kissing my sweaty forehead before we fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We didn’t stay asleep for long. We had sex anytime we woke up, in any manner we saw fit until completion would exhaust us back to sleep. The lingering sweat and delightful soreness of my sticky thighs would rouse me; Rhysand, sensing me through our bond, would wake with excitement and nestle himself between the junction of my legs. We fit together like a lock and key. Even between our moments of physical intimacy, we spoke quietly to each other. We traded confessions, thoughts and dreams until we collided together again. 

When morning had come, we’d attempted to rise from bed. The pre-dawn light had filtered in from underneath the tent flaps and we reluctantly pulled ourselves apart. We did this in silence and faced away from one another. The rasp of his voice was enough to arouse me. Everything about him aroused me: especially the sight of my marks on his body from my nails, bites scattered across his chest, and the fluid dried on his lower thighs and mouth. 

It had been Rhysand that broke his valiant attempt at self-control. I had reached down to pull on my pants and a soft gasp had escaped me from the cold leather of my vambraces. Rhysand had thrown my pants from my grasp and bent me over the table we ate dinners at, barely pausing long enough to unbuckle his own belt. 

His hands still dug into my waist, cock half-buried in me when he asked hoarsely, “What is the chance you spend the day in bed?” 

“Zero unless you’re there,” I sighed in bliss when he pulled from me. We were supposed to go to the Spring Court again. Already I knew the day was going to be long without him. There was no chance he could be besides me though. One look at him and we’d be hard pressed not to abandon our duties to find a private section of woods. I could already feel my forethought and judgement slipping from my grasp. 

He  _ tsked.  _

“Are you complaining?” I turned, leaning on the table and crossed my arms over my chest. I raised an eyebrow, assessing my mate with a discerning look. 

The insatiable hunger in his eyes that answered my question threatened to light me on fire. “ _ Never.  _ I wish we had time so I could bed you properly. Not in a war camp. Not in a tent,” he grit out. “Mating usually...needs time. For the frenzy to be finished.”

“We’ll be in Velaris tonight,” I stepped forward, daring the tenderness even though it risked devolving into passion.  _ Again. _ I cupped his cheek and smoothed the skin there, his eyes traced over mine. I knew the exact moment my mate was ready. The frenzy had most definitely not left us yet. “We can make it through the day?” my question was half aimed at him and half towards myself. My self-control only lasted as long as his did. 

He smiled but his eyes remained half-lidded. I tapped his cheek with my palm, snapping him back to reality. He laughed and shook his head. “This is a terrible idea, truly.” But he waved his hand and a bath appeared, steaming. “I’m going to the Andros to bathe. You’ll be careful today.”

“Won’t I see you?” I pouted. 

He kissed me, hand holding my chin steady. His talented tongue slipping over my lips made me want to lay back on the table and see how much he loved me. His eyes caught mine in their surprising clarity and intensity. “If I see you…” he dragged out, eyes following the curve of my body. Focusing on my current state of undress. Most definitely smelling my growing arousal. He snapped out of his trance, “I’ll either fuck you where you stand or fight anyone around you. It’d be best if I get that out of my system on the battlefield.” I, also, had no desire to introduce myself as Lady of the Night Court by bedding Rhysand on the middle of a killing field. But that didn’t mean I wanted to spend the day without him. 

I forced myself to nod in understanding. He was attempting control. I should attempt the same. For now. “Go then, I’ll see you in Velaris,” I urged him forward. He smiled gratefully, buckling his pants and strapping on his scabbard. Only when he was gone did I take off my clothes to bathe. I scrubbed mercilessly, unwilling to walk out of the tent smelling as I did. 

I dressed slowly. Even though we had fucked the entire night through and were ready for more, my energy only extended towards his body and self. My exhaustion was apparent once he left. I barely strapped my breastplate on. Collapsing into bed was sounding more appealing by the second. I shook myself out of it and walked from our tent to grab breakfast. 

Azriel found me when I had finished two portions and was braiding my wet hair down my back. We winnowed in silence to the Spring Court. Since we took over a large territory yesterday, we spent the day establishing the territory as our own. The brisk air helped to restore my thoughts and I found if I didn’t reach for my magic or the mental bond that I could tamp down on my instincts. 

I realized Azriel knew that Rhysand and I had completed our mating bond when I saw him later, still with the Illyrian legions I led. Usually he would winnow away and only check on me for moments throughout the day. At first, I thought that Azriel appeared to check in on me but when our brief rest finished he continued to establish the perimeter with the other Illyrians. He helped them set up outposts for our patrols and wards that would let us know if Hybern’s soldiers were returning. I had tried to rationalize why he remained behind but could come up with nothing besides he knew of what Rhysand and I had done. I was confused why he was sticking close. Rhysand had already threatened to fight anyone near me. Azriel remaining close with full knowledge of the reaction he’d elicit was almost antagonistic of the shadowsinger. 

When we broke for another rest, I tracked him down to confront him. He was drinking water and inspecting the camouflage of the outpost, attempting to see it from a distance. His ears flicked when I approached as he crouched low to the ground, eyes focusing off in the distance. “What are you still doing here?” my voice startled the quiet. 

“Your legion needed help,” he shrugged, glancing at me from where he knelt. His eyes finding anything else besides me to focus on. It was the first time I had ever seen Azriel duck or shrink himself. His shadows even seemed to retreat. I momentarily checked my magic, worrying that I had accidentally hurt him. But my magic was locked up tight inside me as it had been since I said goodbye to Rhysand. 

My brows furrowed. “No they didn’t,” I shot back. 

He sighed, rising from his crouch. He patted his hands on his pants like they ever got dirty. Instead of appearing tired like his sigh implied, he looked amused. His eyebrows raised sheepishly, like he’d been caught red handed. I found that I was irritated by his delight. “Your instincts are new to you. I wanted to stay close in case you had an issue with them.” 

My frustration fizzled in the face of his genuine words. He shifted, unsure what else to say. “How did you know then?” I dared, my cheeks reddening. I had nearly removed a layer of skin trying to ensure I didn’t smell of sex and Rhysand. Not that I personally minded but I found such blatant displays would be distasteful, at the least, when on a battlefield. I thought maybe Rhysand perhaps never bathed in the Andros, giving it away by his smell.

He barked laugh. “Cassian asked if you were going to spar with him later.” 

I blanched, fearing whatever reaction Rhysand had. “And Rhysand-” 

“No,” Azriel laughed softly, eyes bright with joy. My stomach was still pulling uncomfortably at me so I couldn’t share his humor. “Rhys did not attack Cassian for his question. But Rhys was a little  _ too  _ tense in answering. Cassian guessed it.” I sighed out, relieved my mate hadn’t completely lost his mind. The pull to see Rhysand was persistent inside of me but I could focus enough to function. 

Just thinking about Rhysand made me yearn to be next to him. Not only in intimate ways but even speaking with one another, sharing ideas like we had in bed the prior night. I yearned for the way he whispered to me what he wanted for our future, our inner circle and people.

But to my horror, Azriel continued speaking. “And then Cassian asked if you couldn’t train then if you wouldn’t mind…” Azriel muttered some curses under his breath. 

“Mind…” I trailed off, not completely sure I wanted Azriel to finish his sentence. Seeing the shadowsinger’s cheeks darken slightly was confirmation enough that Cassian’s words would surely horrorify me. I knew whatever Azriel said would confirm Cassian’s death at my hands. __

“Ifyouwouldn’tmindridinghimtoosinceyou’renottootiredtoscavengetheSpringCourt,” he rushed out, biting his cheek. He stood tensed with eyes burning a hole into the ground. “Rhysand nearly choked Cassian out,” he added, seeing my frozen expression. 

My eyes slid to Azriel’s and he blanched at the ice he found in them. “If he still has a pulse, then Rhysand wasn’t severe enough.” 


	87. Injure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

All my energy was focused on my time with Elain and healing. Madja and Mattan would come in the dawn to help work me through all the exercises they thought would restore my full range of motion. After I had spent the early morning sweating, one of them would help to bring me to the townhouse. In the beginning, I needed both of them to walk to the townhouse but now I just needed one of them to lean on. Today would mark the first day I would use a cane. 

Everytime I grew frustrated with the slow progress, they reminded me that all my muscles had been flayed from the bone. I was regrowing and retraining all my muscles from nothing. Unfortunately, patience with myself has never been my strong suit. The fact that my progress directly impacted my ability to spend time with Elain didn’t help either. 

I stumbled a little with my cane the first few steps but after, I was used to the uneven motion. Madja nodded approvingly. I had learned the hard way that disobeying Rhysand’s Master Healer was not wise. After realizing I had left my sickbed the first time to see Elain with Azriel’s help, she had reminded me why that was reckless. Her hand had softly patted my scarred back as she talked about the dangers of stressing my injury. Each time she touched the area, I bit my cheek and turned to panting from the pain. Sweat once again dotted my forehead. She spoke like I was a child in need of a bedtime story. Madja had highlighted that the injuries so close to my spine could have damaged my ability to function my lower extremities and more important appendages. She left me with the promise that she’d return in the morning for my exercises with Mattan and would not hear about me making any more great escapes. By the time she was gone, my stomach knotted so tightly for reasons entirely independent of the pain. 

So I listened to the Master Healer and had to hear no more of losing any more functionality. Madja had diligently worked to help me regrow the muscle through various exercises and tonics that I suffered through daily. Though I trusted her. She hadn’t earned her title without skill and intelligence; afterall, I was walking with a cane when I had arrived unable to twitch my toes. 

Madja and Mattan saw me to the door and let me out into the streets, brisk air of Winter threatening to tip me over no sooner had I stepped out. I steadied myself enough to forge onward. But my mind was once again inundated by the beauty of Velaris. I had never seen such a large city that boasted this peaceful life. People from all species, Courts and backgrounds cohabitating in successful synchronicity. Call me a pessimist but I never believed the Courts would ever be able to come together like Velaris had succeeded in doing. Every walk of life was celebrated so obviously and it made me feel hopeful. 

Feyre told me Velaris was secret to the world; she hadn’t needed to explain further. I would never be able to tell another soul. My mental walls would need to be retrained before I ever left the city walls. The refugees that had been saved with us would have their memories altered prior to their return. I had debated Feyre on this but she shook her head.  _ It isn’t right. But I value this peace _ , she had said solemnly. It was difficult to argue any further. 

Though some part of me wished we could share this with Prythian. The knowledge that would come from this place would astound the world. All Court’s combined skills had been reimagined here and I couldn’t help but feel that should be shared. I knew once I had healed appropriately, my next task would be to look into how well documented Prythian was. I’d need Rhysand’s approval first, of course. I’d have to find their libraries and scavenge them. Then I reminded myself that it would have to wait until Hybern had been defeated and the wind fell from my sails. 

I came to the townhouse door and let myself in, not bothering to remove my coat. Elain and I only spent our time outdoors anyway. I found her sitting on the porch again. Cerridwen had readily adopted our schedule and helped Elain getting ready. I longed to take that role. I enjoyed getting Elain things she needed or wanted. Digging up that shrub had given me no small amount of satisfaction when it made her smile and laugh. I wanted those moments back and more. My body was painfully unprepared for the present but my mind was leaping ahead centuries. I thought of every impractical activity that had no place occurring during a war but that I so direly wanted to do with Elain. Even the things I would have thought a chore now looked new and interesting to me because I knew Elain would make it so. 

I looked at Elain and I saw that peaceful woman in the gardens. Lazy afternoons reading in them. Taking long walks together with purposeless conversation. One image that recurred in my mind was sitting in the grass with her, laughing over some pages of a book that neither of us were paying attention to. There were books scattered around us and a few remants of a lunch of bread and cheese, some jams as well. But I focused on the way the sunlight danced on her face when she spoke to me. How she practically radiated warmth and kindness. I wanted to create that moment. 

Those thoughts came unprompted and at seemingly random moments but they all found a place in my ideas for the future. 

Elain was dressed in purple tod ay and bundled heavier since snow was called for. Her eyes were still blue. I quietly prepared tea, ensuring Elain’s was sweet. Nesta had lectured me that when I thought the tea was too sweet, I still needed to add more. There had been some direness in the way she spoke to me when she told me of things that made Elain happy. I realized later that she had accepted the mating bond. Or perhaps acknowledged it; and now, she wasn’t going to let me bluster my way through courting Elain. 

I had thought Nesta would want to sit with Elain and I but she never emerged from her room. Even on the nights the entire inner circle came for dinner, she remained locked away. I knew it wasn’t due to disdain for our company. I’d look over my shoulder when I sat with Elain and find Nesta watching from the window. But the scowl I knew so well was never there. Instead I found sorrow. And on the worst of days, I found fear. I tried to broach the topic but she had trembled, shattered her teacup and returned to her room. Not even emerging to get dinner. 

I’d felt Nesta’s magic. It was untamed and raw. It had no smell or sensation; I could only describe it as bright from far away and alarmingly painful when upclose. How Cassian managed to stay close and remain unaffected was a mystery to me. 

Though Elain’s magic brushed comfortably against mine through our bond, it was also foreign. And unattainable. No amount of my prodding would deliver me any meaningful answers. I’d questioned Rhysand why he hadn’t attempted to peer into her mind and both him and Feyre had choked on their meals. They mirrored each other’s expressions of shock. He then glanced upstairs where Elain laid and delicately explained that would be like taking a hammer to an egg. I understood immediately. Elain’s mind would be too vulnerable. Rhysand had then looked at me with equal curiosity, asking why that didn’t bother me. 

Even upstairs, I could sense her stillness through our bond. When she was human, her heartbeat fluttered eratically. She laughed frequently. She asked questions even more so, curious about everything around her and eager to learn more. A human dropped in the center of a fae war camp and she spent no more than couple days cowed by it before she embraced it with open arms. 

I  had shrugged _. It would be for her.  _ I’d do anything to help her. 

But Elain had emerged from her mind on her own. She moved around herself and did things that she might have liked when she was human. Cerridwen had found Elain could bake for hours unprompted. She’d surprised me one day when she baked an apple pumpkin tart that I had long since resolved to never taste again. The house now permanently smelled of baked goods but they never lasted long. Cassian would come almost every night he could find a fae to winnow him; he’d take the remaining pastries back to the war camps. 

Elain's progress was comforting but until I saw the same human woman I met in the Human Realm that tenderly cared to her garden, I would continue searching for the Elain I had known. I owed it to her. I had brought her from the Human Realm. I had failed her when Hybern took her. I watched when she was Made. I would not fail her now. Even if she decided to reject our bond, I'd do this for her because she deserved it. 

I gritted my teeth then. I wanted to help her not only to bring her back to me but so that I could stop feeling so powerless. When my nightmares came, they were of Elain. The sobs she had choked out when they began whipping me. How I couldn’t find her to see what the source of those sobs were. The mental torture of not knowing what happened to her even when I had been a few paces from where they kept her. That damnably calm expression when she walked to the Cauldron. But most of my nightmares were when they dragged her towards the Spring Manor dungeons. 

I needed to know she was happy. That she was safe. And my largest fear was that what kept her mind from us was keeping her captive to horrors unknown. Like at the present, how she slipped her hand over mine and squeezed it tight. I feared her visions most then that made her hold onto me like an anchor as if she was being pulled away by a current only she felt. 

“Elain,” I whispered. Her ears flicked but her eyes remained glassy. “It’s alright. We’re in Velaris,” I told her, searching desperately for what would keep her with me. What would bring her back home. I succumbed to the chaos my mind fell into around Elain and rambled, “It might snow today. It’s cold enough that you can’t breathe without your breath frosting. When I was a boy, I looked forward to the first snow. The woods would be coated in frost and so peaceful to walk through. I could spend the day just watching how still the world became.” My magic stirred at my words, dredging up memories and feelings from childhood long since buried. 

Her hand tightened and a few tears escaped from her eyes. Like mist giving way to the sun, her eyes cleared to brown. “What does a bird become after it’s wings are clipped?” she whispered, voice stuffy. I tentatively reached out a finger to catch her tears, wiping them away. She swallowed hard. 

My back ached. I wondered if she saw how injured I was. If she was disgusted by it. It was my turn to swallow hard. “With the right healer, the bird could fly again,” I assured her and myself. Like in confirmation, I flexed my toes inside my boots. 

“And if the bird doesn’t heal?” she asked, eyes focused intently on our interlocked hands. I floundered for a reply that would satisfy her. I wanted an answer to my mate’s question myself. Would I ever heal? Long before Hybern’s soldiers ever got their hands on me, I had been wounded. My injuries had never closed and I wore them on my chest and face. What am I then? An accumulation of open sores? 

After two weeks of time with Elain and imagining a life with my mate, my ideas for the future were scattered to the wind. She wasn’t wrong. What good was a bird that couldn’t fly? But still, I had to try. In vain hope, I said, “Then I guess the bird would have to become something else.” 

She considered this a moment, face pensive. I studied her intently but could glean nothing. Like we had not been speaking, she looked over her shoulder at the townhouse. I shot her a confused look but followed her gaze. In the next moment, I heard the doors slamming and groans ringing throughout the house. Then the scent hit me and my free hand clutched my roiling stomach. The metallic scent of iron coated my nose; someone was bleeding and heavily. 

When I turned back to Elain, she was caught back in her mind. Eyes glassy. 


	88. Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

We have spent weeks in the Spring Court. Out of all these weeks, only four days had Hybern surprised us or ambushed us. All of these days had either been an exercise in patience or a fight for survival. Except for my first battle, we had all been alongside each other. I knew my back was being watched and I was watching theirs. In a way, those had been preludes to what was to come. We had all made it home from those battles and could find ourselves laughing together in the end. 

Thinking back, it seemed rather obvious this would change. We had stolen Hybern’s captive fae. We had stolen my sister’s back. We were currently reconquering the Spring Court and establishing the southern Summer Court as safe once more. It had only been a matter of time before Hybern countered us. 

His first move was to establish chaos.

Explosions happened to the far south of where our troops were. The blasts were nowhere near our perimeter of outposts. Hybern had mastered making them as loud and destructive as possible by setting mining powder aflame; we could see the black plumes rising over the treeline, even from leagues away. I had felt the ground shake beneath my feet. 

His next move was to separate us. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_ Rhysand?  _ I spoke through the bond. The Illyrian legion at my back paused, listening to the booms that echoed off the hills. We hadn’t yet left the perimeter of our established territory. It couldn’t be an ambush. Our invasion into the Spring Court hadn’t gotten far enough. I was almost tempted to think Hybern’s troops had made a mistake, setting off that mining powder too early.  _ I hope they killed some of their own _ , I thought to myself almost giddily. 

_ Azriel is going ahead to investigate.  _

We continued then on our previous work to establish the perimeter. The wards we raised took time and the Day Court soldiers had to work in groups to make them effective. All Courts came together to protect a legion of the Day Court soldiers so they could deplete their magic without being completely vulnerable. I was beginning to believe Amren’s theory of my connection to the High Lords. The magic used around me tingled on my skin like a phantom limb. I knew the very same magic lied inside and almost rose to the surface in greeting. 

The sun rose higher in the sky and I grew more nervous. I had assumed no response meant Azriel found nothing of interest but the silence was beginning to say otherwise.  _ Have you heard from Azriel?  _

_ Azriel said it looked like an accident.  _ Rhysand’s voice was tense.  _ Didn’t he tell you?  _

_ I haven’t seen Azriel since he last winnowed away.  _

Rhysand’s voice sounded resigned, like he knew where this road might lead.  _ He never reached you. I’m going with Cassian to find him.  _

_ I’ll stay behind,  _ I confirmed. One of us needed to remain behind at all times. Amren stayed in Velaris, Mor was in the war camps and I would stay with the troops. It was the surest way to guarantee survival to have someone who remained.  _ Be safe _

_ Always _ , he said and the bond went silent. Waiting was easier said than done. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Each moment could be a time they needed me. I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. I reached for my waterskin before I realized it was empty. I almost threw it away from frustration. The Day Court soldier’s magic began to rub irritatingly against my skin. My fingers twitched. I flipped my dirk in the air, attempting to push my anxious feelings into a nonchalant attitude.

It didn’t work. 

I blew out another breath. With the progress the Day Court made, it was confirmed that Rhysand had been gone longer than normal. With Cassian. And Azriel hadn’t been heard from since the early morning. 

What made my paranoia worse was not having a single person to speak to. I was left with my thoughts and fears. I could hardly contain myself. What convinced me to stay was the thought that I could still feel Rhysand’s mental presence against mine. It didn’t reveal anything to me but it was there. I had to trust that if he needed help he would say so.

I couldn’t tell what role my instincts took in my behavior. Would I have been this concerned a week ago? Something told me I would but the all-consuming fear threatening to tear me apart said differently. I had been in bed with him just that morning. He’d told me that his knees ached when it rained. He’d be alright. I’d see him tonight. 

_ Feyre,  _ his voice in my mind let me breathe. But the way it sounded kept me from feeling any more confident. Raspy and tired. 

_ Rhysand. _ My heart pounded.  _ What do you need?  _ I wanted to demand more. 

_ They set a trap. Cassian’s wounded.  _ His voice was labored. A long pause. My finger’s twitched. Control was slipping. _ Take all the legion’s back to the war camp.  _

_ Are you on your way back?  _ He didn’t reply. The bond went dark. All of my senses were heightened. The flower scent was cloying. The wind was too cold on my skin. My throat was closing and my stomach threatened to upheave. I couldn’t feel him there. He didn’t respond to my calls. 

I whipped towards Lord Devlon. “All Illyrian legions are to return to the war camp. You all will take the Day Court soldiers.” We couldn’t wait for Helion to winnow his own troops and we couldn’t leave them undefended. He assessed me with a cold look. He was looking for weakness and I would give him none. My expression was murderous with each passing second. “Now, Lord Devlon,” I barked out. At the moment I thought I would tear his head from his body, he dipped his chin.

I needed nothing else. I turned to the woods and sprinted. I had no idea where they were. I could be running for a long time. The forest blurred past me in shades of green. The longer I ran, the more my mind went to Rhysand. It had been too long. I cursed Lord Devlon again for wasting my time. My legs pumped furiously underneath me, stomping through the forest. I didn’t care if I was loud. They could try and catch me. I wouldn’t leave my friends, my mate.

My mind kept circling back to Rhysand. The bond going dark could mean many things. Normally, faebane. Or magic. Or death. The more I searched for him in my mind, the emptier it seemed. No warm brush of his thoughts against mine. Only a cold, dark space left in his wake. I hadn’t realized how used to I was to his presence. I wanted to reach him. I needed to. I couldn’t accept any other fate. He would be alright. We would be back in Velaris tonight, together. We were supposed to have dinner with Tarquin and the Summer Court next week.

He couldn’t be gone. 

My world was thrust into black. But not the comforting night that Rhysand’s magic made. Or the quiet one of my mind when I fell asleep each night. It was roaring and loud. My magic was awake and pulsing through me. The air was cold and it whipped my face, letting me know I wasn’t dead. But my mind didn’t linger on this darkness long. I couldn’t be distracted. I had to find him. I needed to get to my mate. 

And the darkness pulled back and I was surrounded by foreign, green foliage. I knew I had winnowed but couldn’t afford time thinking it over. 

It wasn’t silent. I could hear shouting. Magic foreign to mine brushed against me. Movement caught my attention and I fell into the shadow of a tree, looking to see a Hybern soldier with his back turned to me. I checked that my magic was buried, my presence hidden. He was focused on something else anyway. Where all the magic was coming from. I crept closer. Bright magic stung my senses. 

What I saw confirmed all my worries. Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were held back by magic glowing yellow, throwing orange sparks into the air where it clashed with Rhysand’s. Only Rhysand remained standing out of the trio. Azriel and Cassian were at Rhysand’s feet and if I inspected further, I was sure to be consumed by their injuries. 

Two fae had casted wards to push them back and trap them. A sick feeling started in my stomach as I beheld the fae. Each of them with hair like midnight and eyes dead as the grave. Twins, probably. Their outstretched hands were tinted darkly, like something had bled into them. Behind them was at least four legions of troops. 

Helplessness washed over me. I couldn’t take out that many troops by myself. Not with Azriel and Cassian vulnerable and not even on the luckiest of days. Maybe if I summoned the Autumn Court magic and burned them all, hoping I’d detonate some mining powder but that’d likely hurt Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel too.

Rhysand’s magic swirled like ink in water, fighting off the magic that threatened to suffocate them. The ward had cut Rhysand off from me, it’s magic sealing him inside. He didn’t appear to be struggling or injured but my mate’s magic, though powerful, had a limit. There would be no help coming for us. The best he could do against a ward so powerful was to block it, preventing it from hurting them. But his magic couldn’t break powerful wards. 

But mine could. The Day Court magic inside me was still alive from earlier. I could break that ward. I knew I could shatter it. But I’d have to get there. If I tried slaughtering my way towards the fae, I’d be killed before I ever reached them. I’d have to winnow. 

I began the same process I had before. I let my mind be consumed by my instincts that drove me to Rhysand’s side. But this time, I aimed them at the ward. I needed to get to that ward or Rhysand would die. Cassian and Azriel as well. I needed to be there. If I wasn’t, I’d lose my friends and my mate. That ward was keeping me from them. And like I had been plucked from my feet and tossed into the air, I was thrust into the dark and pushed back out again just as quick. 

Right at the feet of those twin fae. Their brows furrowed for a moment before recognition lit their features. One opened their mouth. Rhysand looked horrified. 

I didn’t give them any more time to react. I thrusted out my hand to their ward and with all the magic roiling inside me, I punched through their barrier like it was a glass window. Their faces enraged, they shouted orders. But I was already throwing myself at the trio. I grabbed onto Azriel and Cassian tightly, throwing my body into Rhysand’s just to connect us all to him. We couldn’t stay and fight today. Cassian and Azriel wouldn’t make it if we did. 

My mate caught my fall, understanding my intention immediately; he sliced open the world to winnow us away. 


	89. Foretell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

The silent townhouse transformed into a cacophony of noise in less than a second; I was out my bedroom door in the next. I was met by Mor pulling an unconscious Azriel up the stairs. Someone’s deep groan echoed in my ears. She gave me one beseeching look and I was snapped from my frozen stupor. I rushed to help her carry the male to his bedroom. The first thing I noticed was how wet his arm was. My hand tightening on his arm made rivulets of blood run onto the black fabric of my glove. I looked away, swallowing hard. 

We laid him down and no sooner had we, I saw Feyre and Rhysand carrying Cassian into another bedroom. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily.  _ Of course he had been injured as well.  _ It was only logical. I doubted there were many moments where one of them had been hurt and Cassian hadn’t been as well. 

I thought back to that day in the Summer Court. His skill and power commanded the fight in the arena. His presence alone held the front lines. If anyone else had been injured, it was because he had fallen first. 

The familiar red siphons on his shoulders were dark red, no light pulsing. I was trapped by the sight of his wings. Last night, they had been broad and strong. I’d watched him become airborne with one powerful thrust of them. The muscle attaching them to his back was thick from training and use. That image was so different from the sight before me. The least of his injuries was that one wing had reopened it’s mending wounds; the ones he’d earned the night Hybern had abducted me. It was the other wing that clutched at my stomach and refused to let go. The wing’s first joint was bent inward, like a knee that had been snapped backwards. The rest of the membrane was pulled taught and loose in all the wrong places. A white bone from the joint protruded, stretching the membrane so tightly it had torn. 

My stomach lost the battle of keeping it’s contents at the smell of his blood. The first whiff had me doubling over, vomiting up whatever small amount of food I had eaten earlier. My body shook violently. I clutched the doorway to keep upright but had slid to my knees anyway. My head throbbed. I dry heaved until my throat was hoarse. My body felt like a shell that I no longer could call my own; like an empty house that had no furniture or family: cold and desolate. 

Healers rushed past me. I moved to follow them but Feyre knelt before me. Her armored shin smearing my vomit on the hardwood floors. I thought I should say something to her but couldn’t open my mouth to speak. “We need to let them work, Nesta,” she choked out. My ears ached. Her hands clutched my elbows. I could feel her shaking. Or maybe that was me. A dull throb began in my chest and I couldn’t focus well enough to figure out it’s source. 

His blood was so heavy in the air it drowned me. My lungs failed me. But my heart was racing. I realized it was his heart I heard, not mine. My stomach lulled again. I pushed forward again to his side but met Feyre’s stubborn resistance. “He needs their focus,” she whispered, eyes red. Her cheek was smeared with dirt. Her blue eyes were even brighter when they were close to tears. 

I numbly consented to being led back down the stairs. My eyes blurred at the sight of the blood trail we walked over. Most of it was Azriel’s but some was Cassian’s too. Voices from upstairs found my ears. The healers speaking to each other. I clenched my eyes shut to keep from hearing them. As cold as I felt, I wanted to remain by the fire with Feyre. Any warmth was welcome when my fingers threatened to snap off like icicles. But it was when I heard Mor and Rhysand hugging in grief over their friends that I left for the patio. 

Lucien was halfway out of his seat, getting ready to lean onto his cane. He stopped at the sight of me. His nostrils flared, reminding me of the metallic scent coating me. He looked to my bloodsoaked gloves, the golden eye focusing in. If my fingers hadn’t threatened to fall away, I would have removed them but my muscles were seized by the cold inside me. 

Elain was caught by her mind again. Their hands were so tightly intertwined, they were white. I shivered. “Azriel and Cassian were injured,” I told him. My voice sounded like gravel. “Azriel is bleeding a lot. Cassian’s wing is…” I couldn’t finish. Lucien stiffened at my words. He looked at Elain but she didn’t look back. 

I took the empty seat across from them and curled my legs underneath me. Even the cloak Cassian had bought for me wasn’t warming me any longer. I burrowed into it nonetheless. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting was familiar to me. I had waited for Cassian to return from battle numerous times now. The worst had been the day Hybern had abducted us; I’d spent the day without a single thought except for him. When I was in Hybern’s cage, I had waited to die myself. Spent each moment wondering if I’d watch Elain go or if she’d have to watch me. I had waited to be thrown into the Cauldron. I had waited as I watched Elain go before me. 

The numbness involved in waiting was familiar to me. I hardly noticed when the snow began to fall. I was already cold. It was more of the same. Rhysand, Feyre and Mor joined us on the patio. None of us were willing to reenter the house that smelled of their blood. If either of them died, this place would be burned or emptied. I didn’t think a single person here would be able to stomach it otherwise. I could hardly stomach the mere thought. 

Feyre slipped a tray of hot tea on the table and poured a mug for each of us. She pushed the mug between my fingers. It’s warmth leached into my body but I didn’t sip. Until the healer’s emerged, my stomach would continue to lurch inside me. 

The scent of salt hit my nose. Elain had rejoined us at the worst possible moment. All of us were frozen by her. It was Lucien who lurched forward, grimacing, to grab the cloth napkin from Feyre’s tea tray and handed it carefully to Elain. Despite his injury, he moved with surprising speed and grace. To all our surprise, she reached out and took it from him. She continued to wipe at her uncontrolled tears but they evolved into full fledged sobs. I didn’t want to believe Elain had full woken up at the moment.  _ She couldn’t wake up to this horror. Not now.  _

But her eyes had that warm golden brown shade and she cried like she had when they whipped Lucien. All her previous moments of lucidity were only shadows of her true self, like she had been going through the motions of living. The Elain that had just rejoined us had her mind  _ and  _ her heart. 

Feyre crept close to Elain, kneeling before her. She tentatively placed a hand on Elain’s shoulder. “Elain?” she asked. Her voice was the only sound on the dead silent porch. Besides all our collectively beating hearts. Elain looked up, startled, but threw her arms around Feyre’s neck the moment recognition hit. I had seen her do this a hundred times before both when she was sad and happy. Seeing it now felt like a greeting. 

She sobbed into Feyre’s shoulder, her entire frame wracked by her sobs. Feyre wrapped her arms around Elain in reflex, patting our sister’s back in comfort. Though Feyre was still in shock. I hadn’t dared breathe in case I shatter the moment. I think everyone else felt the same. “What did you say?” Feyre asked, her hands rubbing circles in attempt to soothe Elain. 

Elain pulled back, hand clasping Feyre’s cheek. Elain’s face was red and swollen, her lips still pouted. But those eyes were still round and beautiful, too compassionate for their own good. In a quivering voice, Elain whispered, “We are going to lose one of our three.” 

My face crumpled. Feyre gasped like she had been struck. “No we aren’t, Elain. No. They’ll be fine.” Elain could only shake her head, bowing it towards her lap. Feyre tried to console her but the more she tried, the more Elain withdrew. 

I rose from my chair and left the porch quickly. I kept myself from touching her. I couldn’t trust my magic to stay dormant. If I burned Elain like I had Feyre, there would be no recompense. I made my way up the stairs and found the door to Cassian’s room still shut. The healers were inside. I couldn’t walk away. Not after Elain’s statement. So I paced out in the hall, determined that we’d lose neither of them if I stood vigil. 


	90. Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to my readers asking about Elain's words: just guess which trio i'm talking about because i'm not telling. also enjoy this chapter that tore at all my heartstrings. next is pure Elucien
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

When Night came, Feyre was forced to return to the war camp for a High Lord’s meeting on meeting with the Human Queens. Rhysand offered to go with her but she insisted he stay for Cassian and Azriel. The healers hadn’t yet emerged. Leaving would mean giving up his brothers to fate. Rhysand seemed to be a male who had been used to control; he wouldn’t leave them to chance. 

Superstition was high among the group. Everyone in residence commanded some terrible power of death but no one dared speak above a whisper. No one laughed or prepared dinner. 

Morrigan, who had been whiter than paper, stood and left with Feyre. She had cried but her eyes were hard like mine. She pressed a kiss to her cousin’s cheek and followed after Feyre without looking to Azriel and Cassian. It must have been unprecedented behavior as Rhysand’s face fell but he swallowed hard and continued to wait.

I hadn’t seen Elain or Lucien since I walked back into the house but I supposed that was a good thing. Elain should be away from this. Lucien too. Whatever had touched my sister’s mind had sickened her and she needed no more of death and despair. 

After what she had said, I didn’t know if I could be with her either. Her words had ignited something inside me that I knew would escape one day. That inhabitant that existed just beneath my skin was stirring. I worked harder to push my magic down inside me. Everytime it surfaced, tragedy followed. 

Just this morning I had woken in a sweat. Hybern’s voice was still fresh in my head, promising to kill everyone who opposed him. He wanted Feyre for himself for her role in Amarantha’s demise and for being Rhysand’s mate. He wanted to personally see to the destruction of Rhysand’s inner circle and if he had his way, Rhysand would watch. 

I did not like Rhysand. I could distance myself from his suffering, but we cared about the same people so our suffering usually aligned. 

Hybern’s destructive war path made him seem like the villain in all the stores I’d been told at bedtime; but those had always been just stories. Hybern made it all come to life. Everytime I watched Cassian fly off, I knew that Hybern had another chance to make good on his promise. His desire to destroy everything around him was fanatic and insatiable. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wanted most; his words still echoing in my head, my magic had risen from me unbidden. 

I was thankful I had moved myself into a different bedroom. Sleeping with Elain next to me might have helped ease my nightmares but when I woke with the bed singed to black and covered in ash, I was grateful she wasn’t close to me. My magic did this often. I’d stand in the mirror, getting dressed and when I reached for the water basin, it would crack under the slightest of touches. When I retrieved the plate left out for me, I could eat a few bites and the next one would turn to ash in my mouth. The worst, by far, were the chills. I knew pushing my magic down exacerbated the ice in my body. I had no choice. If I didn’t constantly keep it from rising, anything around me was likely to combust, shatter or rot. 

The way my magic lashed out in ways I couldn’t control pushed me further away from the rest. I never hugged Feyre before she left. I couldn’t risk burning her again, not after I had torn away her skin with a single touch. I stayed far from Azriel. His shadows poked around too much. The magic in them stirred what was inside of me. Rhysand, at least, had the good sense not to assess me too much. It was his Second that I avoided at all costs. She came only a few time and I never went to meet her. I could feel her approach from down the street. Whatever presence lay dormant in my mind awoke when she was near like it wanted to seek her out. I feared the consequences of us colliding. 

I had hoped Cassian would do what was best for him and stay far away. I was only fooling myself. He matched me in stubbornness. I had sent him away numerous times now and he never went too far. He knew my words were a halfhearted attempt at self defense, or preservation, and he easily blocked them. I could see the tendrils of his red magic permeating the air in the town house whenever he was in residence. I couldn’t place when they first appeared to me but now when I looked for Cassian, I could find him by his magic. If I closed my eyes, I could smell their smokiness. 

Unlike the rest, his magic never sought me out. They seemed to radiate from him naturally and whenever I neared, they’d accept and envelop me too. I selfishly welcomed the warmth they emanated. Everytime I sent him away and he came back, it grew harder to be distant; he’d return with that damnable smile and heat and I’d be so weak from the cold. 

We had no pretense with each other anymore. Cassian knew I struggled to keep away from him. I shouldn’t be surprised. He was a male trained for finding weaknesses. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The healers emerged from Cassian’s room first. Rhysand and I straightened, suddenly wide awake for their news. Four healers in total stood before us but they addressed Rhysand and I had to calm myself. I had no formal relation to Cassian. Rhysand was their High Lord. “We reset the bone. He is unconscious though will likely need more drush root for the pain and poppy to sedate-”

“Not sleeproot tea?” I interrupted before I could stop myself. 

Rhysand answered instead. “Sleeproot tea isn’t strong enough for Illyrians. He’d wake up in an hour,” he provided, every word strained. He had none of that surely behavior. No confidence or attitude in his shoulders, only worry lines on his face. I found his worry much more tolerable. He turned back to the healers to continue. 

“His wing?” 

Madja sighed. “The joint was inverted, my lord. Time will tell.” Madja was an old female fae. I knew that if she had grey hair, then she must have been born at the dawn of time. Her years should have demanded respect for her craft and intelligence; it only pissed me off further. All those years and she couldn’t give a better answer then  _ sit and wait _ . 

“You regrew Lucien’s muscle. How hard is it to regrow a wing?” I asked. 

Rhysand visibly blanched at the idea. Madja regarded me with her rheumy eyes and smiled tightly. “Lord Lucien lost muscle and skin, a significantly simpler system to rebuild than the joint in General Cassian’s wing. The bone was shattered. Some tendons were cut and the ligaments severely damaged. Attempting to remove the joint would likely kill him in his state and the regrowing process doesn’t guarantee he will ever fly. Our best path is to rebuild the joint.” Madja’s experience gave her words an air of finality. Rhysand seemed to understand something unsaid. 

“How long will rebuilding take?” I asked. 

“Very long,” she said. I didn’t ask any more questions. I let Rhysand thank them before Madja stepped into Azriel’s room. Before the door swung shut, I saw the healers bathed in blood illuminated by the torches. I didn’t see Azriel’s shadows. His exposed skin seemed barren without them. 

Rhysand looked likely to speak. I pushed through into Cassian’s room. I had never stepped foot in his room, largely because it was on the third floor and I had no reason to be on the third floor. I saw immediately why his and Azriel’s room were the highest in the house. It had a vaulted ceiling giving the room over double the height as mine. It was also significantly wider as well and spacious. Though it didn’t seem so with his wings fully expanded. They almost touched either walls. 

The left wing was patched with gauze and some oozing green poultice. The other was wrapped heavily in bandages and propped over a sofa to support it. That wing looked darker than it’s twin. Cassian’s back was heavily bruised where the wings attached. The red haze of his magic was gone as Azriel’s was and with it, all his warmth. With all the superiority of fae eyes, I couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest. I bit my lip, the only confirmation he still lived at all was his wheezy breath. The noise was so at odds with the male I knew that I couldn’t reconcile it with him. It was too high for the pitch of his voice. Too soft for how thunderous his laugh could be. 

I hadn’t realized I was still standing in the middle of his room until Rhysand dragged a chair over to Cassian’s bedside. Then he dragged another, sweeping a hand over either for me to choose. I closed the door and took the one nearest Cassian’s left wing. 

After the healers left, they had snuffed the torches and left the candles lit. Only their warm flicker and the moonlight coming in from the windows illuminated us. That was fine with me. I would lose my stomach again if I saw any more of the damage.

Rhysand eased himself down besides me and thankfully didn’t speak. I hated when the silence was disturbed for meaningless words. Nothing would have been more useless than a couple of heartfelt words about Cassian being strong. I knew Cassian was strong. I knew that he would wake up and throw himself back into his rehabilitation. A male as stubborn as Cassian would not accept never flying again. 

When Azriel’s healers knocked, Rhysand met them at the door. They explained Azriel nearly had his organs spilled. Madja said if the gouge had been a finger's width longer, they would have poured out of him. But the healers sewed back the skin, despite the excessive blood loss, and Azriel’s Illyrian healing would do the rest. 

Rhysand thanked them before they also left. He came to stand by me but I didn’t look at him. I was keeping silent so I could hear Cassian's shaky breathing. “I’m going to sit with Azriel. Someone should be with them when they wake.” I nodded as the only confirmation I had heard him. Rhysand followed my gaze to Cassian’s broken wing. “Azriel was ambushed,” he provided. “Cassian...he used his wing to beat them back but there were too many. They caught his wing.” I knew exactly how it happened. I'd watched Cassian throw out his wing like a battering ram and dent metal from it's impact. The only way they could have wounded him so was by severely outnumbering him, the fucking cowards. 

“Where were you?” I asked quietly, startling him. I turned away from Cassian to catch Rhysand’s violet eyes. They normally had mirth but they only looked vacant to me then. “Where were you when they were attacked?” I barely took stock of the words coming out of my mouth. I was angry and Rhysand was nearest. I knew how best to hurt him. Afterall, I knew what hurt Feyre. 

His jaw tightened and eyes flashed with the same anger. But Rhysand hadn’t lived for centuries to be goaded into losing his temper by me. “I wasn’t there and I will have to live with that,” he gulped, voice dry. 

“Cassian will have to live with that too,” I ground out quietly when he shut the door. The house was still, he likely heard me.  _ Good _ , the part of me that stung said. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian woke three times throughout the night and each time I handed him a murky glass of what I assumed to be boiled poppy seeds. Once he twitched, I knew he would wake soon and in need of sedatives. I maneuvered around his wings to slip the glass between his fingers and he took it without noticing my presence.  _ It was better that way _ , I told myself. The bastard would stay awake just to needle at me. I could hear his taunts already. 

_ Someone should have told me this would get you in my bedroom. _

_ Are you my nurse now?  _

_ Did you take my clothes?  _

_ Come on, be honest, did you peek?  _

A healer came by twice to apply drush root to his back. I asked why he hadn’t covered the wings. The healer’s mouth tightened, “I’d need to bathe the wing in it. It’s best if we just numb it at the source.” 

While the night turned to early dawn, I could see more of Cassian’s bedroom. His bed took up the majority of the space. Excessively large like it could boast for him all the females it has seen or how it needs to be large for his equally massive wings. I snorted softly at the thought. He had multiple dressers and a few armor stands. The wall to the right of his bed held multiple paintings of the woods. Each one with a dense forest of pine trees in any one of the seasons. The central and largest painting was of a forest blanketed in snow, glowing blue under moonlight. Flecks of snow caught permanently falling to the ground. Set in the background was a log cabin with warm light casting golden rays from it’s window. A chimney with a trail of smoke that vanished in the night air.

Underneath was a small bookshelf that I promised I would explore when Cassian was awake. I would tease him ruthlessly if I found any tactical books in it. A single  _ Art of Warfare  _ and I’d have the source of my jests for the next century. 

The wall adjacent to his bed was taken up by two glass doors with only a slight ledge beyond it. I could already see him swinging them open to fly out and into the night. I wondered how they’d taunt him when he woke. I didn’t shut the curtains over them. They’d be there regardless if Cassian could see them or not. 

Beyond another set of double doors behind me must have been the bathroom but I didn’t leave my chair to explore. Until Cassian’s breath steadied, I could scarcely turn away. He slept through the morning and well into the afternoon. I only accepted some dry toast from Nuala when she came in.

The longer I went, the more I noted the lack of Cassian’s warmth. It was odd to feel so cold when I was close enough to see his pulse in his neck. I was used to feeling that way alone but never with him. Every other night he would find a way to see me and I could count on his permeating heat and the smell of cedar. 

Sunset had already arrived and Cassian only woke two more times, each time just as drowsy as the last. But his breathing had evened slightly and for that, the tension in my own lungs could lessen too. His wings kept painfully still. He didn’t move but I assumed they’d always twitch a little. What I didn’t know about Illyrian physiology only hurt me further. I hadn’t read much since becoming fae. My head hurt most times that I couldn’t get through a page or two without a migraine. I realized I needed to correct that immediately. When Nuala returned, I asked her for something since perhaps the first night we returned. “Are there books on...on Illyrian medicine?” Nuala didn’t say anything. She dipped her head and left quietly. 

I thought maybe she’d misunderstood. She never spoke. I didn’t know if she could. But apparently she did know what I meant as she returned with several books from different volumes. She’d understood perhaps more than I had. One covered Illyrian flight and another on treating wing injuries. The last was on Illyrian history. “They aren’t common. These will need to be returned,” she said ominously, sitting them on the chair besides me. 

I thanked her before lighting candles besides me and settling into read. Near midnight, Cassian shifted again. I peered over my book. He was faced away from me, head buried in his pillow. Another twitch of his shoulder and I was up, crossing the room to pick up the pitcher of the poppy water and pour another large glass. After realizing I wouldn’t kill him with so much sedative, I became more liberal with my pours. I waited for his hand to flex for the glass. When it did, I slipped the cup between his fingers but they never closed around it. I waited but they remained still. 

Only when I looked back at Cassian did I realize he was more awake then I had initially thought. One eye at his peripheral watched me. His heartbeat lurched. The hand at the glass wasn’t still but poised. “Cassian,” I whispered. His ear flickered and his chest sank. “Cassian it’s me. Now drink your poppy water,” I breathed out, my own heartbeat now thudding in time to his.

His eyes fell heavily on the glass and he finally brought it to his lips, downing it in one swallow. Some dribbled off his chin but he just laid his head back down, heedless. He slept again for the night. I tried my best to keep awake but when I caught myself dozing once more, I dragged my chair across the room. When I fell asleep, I reasoned I’d be a safe distance away from him. 

When I woke, the sun up and halfway through the sky. I startled a little, realizing I wasn’t in my bed. Then panicked even more so when I checked my magic to see if it had escaped as I slept. Then to see if anything around me bore hints of my destruction. Neither were true. The room was quiet and sunny. 

I leaned forward, straightening to see Cassian peering at me with one squinted eye. I rose immediately to get him the poppy drink.  _ How long had he been awake?  _ I knew the drush root should keep his pain minimal but even that relief had limits. “Water,” he croaked out. His rasp nearly startled the glass from my gloved hand. I nodded, changing pitchers. I handed him three glasses total and each one went down faster than the last. He didn’t take the poppy water from me. “Not yet,” he sighed. I could smell the fresh sweat on his forehead. He was still in pain. But he forced me to return to my seat with a shake of his head. 

I dragged my chair back to his side. His smile was a cross between amused and strained. “Why were you all the way over there?” he dragged out each word, pausing in between to take deep breaths. I wondered how bad the pain had to be to make him pant.

“You smell,” I replied without a second thought. None of the coldness inside leached into my response. Instead, I sounded just as hoarse as he did. 

“If I was so bad, you’d leave,” he taunted. Our eyes connected and mine softened. I swallowed through the lump in my throat. Even half-dead, he missed nothing. He watched my throat through the cloth of my dress like he could see all the emotions I’d choked there. “Careful sweetheart, your heart is showing,” he attempted the jest but it was too serious and too honest to be anything but genuine.


	91. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason this chapter exists is because QueenAmydien convinced me at Chapter 1 to write it Elucien. I gotta say I hope 90 chapters later I am not dissapointing. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

My relief at Elain’s presence of mind was conflicting with the panic felt over her inconsolable tears. Fire erupted across my back from the strain of quick movement but I pushed through it. I had handled fire long enough that I could afford to get burned. 

Elain still had my one hand clenched tightly in hers. For how tiny her hand seemed in mine, she was doing a considerable job crushing my fingers. I moved to the edge of my chair, bringing her head against my chest. Any hesitance over being too forward fell away when I beheld her puffy cheeks and swollen eyes. I didn’t know what exactly caused her pain. There were simply too many sources. Too many wounds she hadn’t time to heal properly. 

Her head fell into my chest and in a moment, my tunic was soaked. My other hand stroked slow circles around her shoulder blade. The fabric of her purple dress bunched up around her. She hadn’t spoken since we were all together. She’d rejected Feyre’s attempts at comforting her. Nesta had sat oddly frozen, transfixed by her sister’s tears like they shocked her. I couldn’t blame anyone for being caught off guard. 

If this moment had gone differently, I could picture Cassian gawking. Azriel might have stilled to the point of hardly breathing. 

But instead Elain returned at the precise moment tragedy had struck and the coincidence was not lost on me. We knew her magic was keeping her mind preoccupied. Everytime her eyes turned glassy blue, her magic would rise and swirl and it felt like a breeze against me, as unattainable and elusive as the wind. Even when she had brief moments of clarity, her magic still permeated the air. I knew she had actually returned because for once I could feel my mate’s mental presence without that constant barrier of magic. 

I couldn’t say I was entirely in control when my magic sought out hers like an old friend. It washed over her and I didn’t attempt wrangling it back. Through that bond, I could feel her heartbeat mellowing and for once I knew I had done the right thing. 

Her sobs, once choked and heavy, turned into hiccups. She didn’t shake but quivered. I was delayed in realizing her magic abandoning her had left her more exposed to the temperature. That didn’t do me any good when I wore a coat that, even if my back wasn’t an issue, my arms tangled around her wouldn’t let me shrug off. I hadn’t attempted manifesting my magic since Hybern had taken me. The burning sensation of my wounds having more or less to do with that. Nonetheless, I didn’t spend a single moment in hesitation. My skin heated to the point my back was starkly uncomfortable; she stopped trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

We’d long since been left alone and it showed by the thin layer of snow surrounding us. Any that landed on me rose off me as steam. Elain had flecks coating her hair that had fallen from it’s braid. I was hyper aware of her presence. In the days I sat with her, I thought my instincts had made themselves known and I had just been too injured or tired to act on them. I now realized I was grossly mistaken. The urges and worries I had were only a fraction of what I felt currently. All stimulus was simultaneously too much for me to handle and grossly not enough. 

Elain’s stray hairs tickling my chin were enough to throw off my train of thought. I was acutely aware how tight her hand gripped my tunic and how each shuddering breath she took tugged it downward. A few of my hairs were caught between her fingers, pulling at my scalp painfully. The fabric of her dress felt rough to my hand when my other was laid on the softness of her skin. The puffs of her humid breaths against my neck left gooseflesh in their wake.  I knew the hypersensitivity was reciprocated because I swallowed and her ears twitched to follow the sound. If I shifted minutely, her fingers dug in harder as if commanding me to stay still. My muscles tensed to the point they’d snap my bones if I didn’t relax soon. 

“Your heartbeat tells me this is real,” she sounded like she was speaking from across the porch. The city was quiet, leaving her words to fill the air. “But I thought all those dreams were real too.” I didn’t think words would work this time either; I raised the hand from her back to her cheek, stroking my thumb over the soft skin. I couldn’t contain my smile from her peach fuzz there under the rough pad of my thumb. Or my satisfaction that her cheek fell into my hand perfectly. “This is real,” her cheek rubbed against my hand, leaning into the warmth. 

I pressed my nose into the crown of her head. “Yes, I’m real. You’re here with us now.” 

She nodded into my chest, pressing the tear-sodden tunic into my chest. “I’ve always been.” When I sat with her, I knew she was in there. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t driven halfway to insanity by not being able to reach her. Knowing each day she was somewhere I couldn’t go, alone and facing unknowns, was a thought I actively tried to push away. “I was there when they chained you...and whipped you,” she swallowed and I could hear the dryness in her throat, the choked cry. 

I stilled. The sobs she had released that night still visited my nightmares. Every fear I had began and ended with that sound. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” I thought those sobs were because Hybern's soldiers had found her fitting fodder for their sadistic appetites.  There was no relief in knowing that I had been the one to cause her tears. Shame at knowing she witnessed what I had been powerless to stop consumed me. 

She released a shaky breath. “See that? Them whipping you was the only thing I didn’t see. I couldn’t watch them do that. I thought I was going to die when they raised the whip for the first lash,” all her words came out so fast that they blended together. She pulled away from me and I felt her absence keenly. Even in the dark, I could make out all the golden flecks in her brown eyes.  _ That was what I was missing,  _ I thought absentmindedly,  _ the warmth in those doe eyes.  _ “I thought you had…” she cut off, the words stuck on her tongue. 

She didn’t need to. Her fear was akin to falling beneath an icy lake, the shock of it seizing my nerves and paralyzing me. “I’m not,” I said firmly. I resented the mobility my injury took from me. It was the obstacle that reminded me I wasn’t dead but I certainly had come close. 

“You’re real,” she repeated, her frigid hand coming to rest on my cheek. I covered her hand with my own. I wondered if she felt as cold as Nesta did. The fact that Elain could stand the snow and was wearing half the layers that Nesta wore told me Nesta’s reaction was unique to her. 

“Very.” 

“I couldn’t tell for a while,” she admitted. “I...I was stuck in dreams and nightmares and I knew...I knew that I was alive but I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I could hear you speak to me and I knew you were close but you...or maybe I was elsewhere,” her eyes darted frantically around. I could only imagine how terrifying it was to not know where you are either in your mind or your body. Elain’s panic smelled tart. My hands on hers squeezed them to bring her focus back. Her face grew harder, more intense. “Everyone’s voices were blurry...but I could hear you like you were next to me. It was your…” she trailed off, searching. She bit her lip and I felt her fingers fidget while she thought. Seeing the familiar twitch prompted a soft smile. “... your  _ light _ that I followed back.”

The mating bond between us tugged on me at her words. It was always in my mind’s eye and anytime I so much as thought of her, it made it’s presence known. I was glad that in some form I helped her when she was so far away from me. It felt right to me. I hadn’t left her side for months now and it seemed wrong to do so when she was right besides me but leagues away in her mind.

My throat closed a little. “You’re...I’m…” I looked to the night for guidance but it was silent and relatively useless to me. I closed my eyes, hating those words that failed me. “You’re my mate. I...I’m yours...we’re mates,” I stumbled through the words that had kept me alive these past few days. I guess it was fitting though. It was the truth stripped of all adjectives and Elain deserved what was real and absolute. 

I should have been focused on her reaction but all I could think about was her smell. The honeysuckle and fresh soil of her that told me if she rejected me, I’d be eternally haunted by those scents. I’d never be able to walk in the woods without her memory. I’d have to find the most desolate place in existence to be able to not see her in everything around me. I was struck by the single thought that by falling in love with Elain, I had fucked myself for the rest of my immortal life. I was looking at the best this world contained and everything after would just be details. 

Her chin wobbled. All I could quickly gather from the bond was an overwhelming onslaught of emotion, a rapid turbulence I couldn’t sort through. The salt of her building tears stung my nose. Her wrapping her arms around my neck only increased my confusion and I found myself holding her tentatively and unsurely. Her face buried in my neck, breath skittering over my skin. Some instinct of mine embraced the contact. It wasn’t until she was falling against me did I realize she actually meant to hug me. My back protested sharply and the skin went taught but it was all secondary. I quickly readjusted so we didn’t topple off the edge of my chair and instead fall back into it. 

And fall we did. 

My back hit the wooden backing with an audible ‘smack’ and some of my muscles spasmed. If anything, that helped me to hold her tighter. Her knees curled under her and she, of course, gracefully half laid and half sat on my lap. I was consumed by her presence. The pain in my muscles was all irrelevant to me; I focused on her. She pressed herself tighter against me, her face flush with my neck. “That is perhaps the only thing that makes sense to me right now,” her laugh came out shaky. I felt her lips pull back in a smile that coaxed one from me too. 

I breathed out and I went completely slack underneath her, except for where my hands held her at her waist and knees. “I’m sorry about your back,” she added quietly, hands tensing where they rested on my shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

The series of emotions I felt from her in the past minute through the bond had come to a point. Contentment radiated from her. After months of telling myself to stay back and her quick acceptance at what would have lasting consequences, I felt whiplash at the turn of events. None of it made sense to me but I embraced it regardless. I barked a laugh, startling her slightly. “I hardly feel it,” I grinned broadly. 

Her eyes, once wide with shock, squinted when her face split into a smile, wrinkling slightly at the corners. “You’re a liar,” she replied and it was my turn to be caught off guard. “I know you’re lying and you’re  _ laughing  _ about it,” she accused, eyes flaring in mock outrage. Her palm pressed against my neck, aiming my face towards her and nowhere else. 

“How did you know?” I searched out her face. I should stop expecting to find answers where my mate is concerned. Surprise and mystery went hand-in-hand with her. I was prepared for her to tell me my scent gave it away and I would have died to know what I smelled like to her. 

She smiled proudly, tilting her head. “You told me. Like right now that I know you’re confused,” she answered like it had always been so simple. I knew then she would feel my shock. If she could feel my emotions then she recognized the mating bond as well. Maybe she didn’t know what it was but she felt it as sure as I did. I didn’t know how often it happened that both mates recognized the bond and I didn’t care. Her eyebrows came together in worry, lips opening slightly for her teeth to worry at. “I can feel you’re shocked right now,” she added, prompting me to assure her. 

“You’re very shocking,” I nodded, entranced by how her teeth dug into her lower lip and left it red and swollen. Our bond tugged on me and her emotions laid themselves open to me. “And you’re proud of that fact,” I sighed out with a half-attempted laugh, not sure how I could still be shocked. She nodded, showing me that pride. 

But on top of her guilty smile was the hint of weariness from two weeks of a near continuous drain of her magic. Though I wanted to address all of my theories about her magic and visions, I knew my mate was tired. I could give her rest and that pleased me greatly.  Knowing me as well as I did her, Elain laid her head on my shoulder. She relaxed in my arms. The night was peaceful with stray snowflakes still making their way to the ground. I dazedly wondered if everything would be so easy with Elain by my side. “You’ll stay with me?” she asked through a yawn. 

“For as long as you want.” 


	92. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains both Feyre's and Morrigan's POV.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Rhysand’s sorrow consumed my mind. I couldn’t watch my mate in so much pain without doing something about it. Fear ate away at me. The endless sources of  _ what ifs _ echoed in my mind. I couldn’t accept how happy we had been just that morning and how all of it had turned to ashes. If we lost either Cassian or Azriel, we would never be the same. I’d lose dear friends. Rhysand would lose his brothers. 

_ They were strong,  _ I reasoned.  _ But this is war and people die all the time.  _ There was no reason why the people I loved should live while so many others had died. Yet I couldn’t stop myself from praying to the Mother, Cauldron and all the stars in the sky to keep Cassian and Azriel with us. 

I had never been particularly devout which seemed justified when Hybern has used the Cauldron to commit so many atrocities. With my friend’s lives hanging by a thread, I was ready to become a High Priestess and devote myself to the Cauldron if it meant they’d be saved. I was practically an animal, ready to gnaw off it’s own leg if it meant I could keep my friends.

My nerves would make the meeting a struggle to control myself during the High Lord’s meeting. I wanted to stay with Rhysand and wait for whatever answer the healers would deliver but I was needed at the table. It was nothing that Rhysand had not warned me of. The hard choices I would have to make as Lady of the Night Court. I’d already felt them when my sisters had been kidnapped and again when I had to leave their side to return to the war front. My instincts then had demanded I stay. Now, with a completed mating bond, my insides were ripping themselves apart if it meant keeping me by Rhysand’s side.

And I wanted to listen to them. I wanted to hold his hand or head or heart until we knew what the dawn would bring. As Lady, my responsibilities and desires would not always meet. 

I kissed his cheek, promising him my mind would be open to him while I left with Morrigan. Rhysand had nodded stiffly with his eyes focused on the floor. He hadn’t mentioned my complete disregard of his orders or how I had endangered myself so recklessly. That only made me worry more over my mate. 

Morrigan had followed my lead and kissed Rhysand’s cheek to winnow me back to the camps. He looked twice as alone without her by his side. Morrigan’s eyes burned but she straightened herself to join me, stuffing all her pain away for later. She hugged me when she winnowed us to the war camps and didn’t let go when we arrived. I returned the hug with vigor and in quick, rapid succession we both dissolved into tears. Like we gave each other permission to be weak away from everyone else’s eyes. I was sucking in air because my sobs wracked my body and choked my lungs. 

Morrigan shuddered against me, her blonde hair covering my face. “I need them to be okay,” she whispered. I couldn’t use words to comfort her. I was just as terrified as she was. I ran my hand over the back of her head, smoothing over the curls and hoping it helped her even a little. 

When we collected ourselves, I wore a drastically different expression than a moment before. Morrigan regarded me with worry etching fine lines in her face. All my nerves and fears ate at me, Rhysand’s pain killed me, and all of that helped fuel my anger. I was mad I had to leave my mate at this time and I blamed all the High Lords for the sixth meeting we would have to get nowhere by the end. I wanted to stay and wait for Cassian and Azriel to wake up because I refused all alternatives. Hybern had already taken so much from me and my family. The High Lords couldn’t take the rest. 

“Feyre,” she tried. 

“This has to end,” I said firmly. My mate’s pain drove me forward. With every beat of our hearts, I could feel his sadness throbbing in tune. “We can’t keep arguing over wealth when so many are dying. We need to end this,” I nodded, mind working through the plan while Morrigan furrowed her brows. “The only way we can is if we work together. We all need to sacrifice something to the Human Queens.” 

“But they won’t agree with you-”

“They won’t agree with me,” I cut her off. “But if I have allies, they’ll agree with me then. They wouldn’t risk being left out of a bargain. Not one so important.” Morrigan watched me silently, tentatively nodding while I spoke. “I know I can convince the Solar Courts to agree. I already have Tarquin’s favor. If I speak to Helion and Thesan, would you speak to Tarquin?” We only had so much time before the meeting. But if it worked then this would be the last meeting about the Human Queens and we could finally address the problem of the Book of Breathings. 

Not accepting or denying my request, she asked, “How do you know you have the Solar Court’s approval? Helion isn’t exactly known for being easy to work with.”

“Because when Rhysand claimed me as his mate, he brought Helion and Thesan with him.”

“Yes, as a witness and to verify the mating bond,” she stared at me, eyes hard and assessing. I felt pushed to continue. Under the weight of her eyes, I was likely to spill my whole heart. They had all known the choice Rhysand had made that day and were very unlikely to forget exactly why he had to make it. 

“Tamlin lost his temper when Rhysand made the claim and his claws pierced through my arms,” Morrigan’s eyes darted to my forearms but I wore long sleeves. My Dawn Court magic would have healed those scars anyway. Whenever it was brought up, I could see the world-ending anger in Rhysand’s eyes. Even Cassian and Azriel seemed to possess a special rage for what Tamlin had done. But Morrigan’s brows drew together and her mouth opened on a strangled cry, imagining the wounds herself like she had felt them too. I swallowed through apprehension, “I didn’t know how to control my magic. Helion and Thesan both witnessed my wounds close up. They haven’t mentioned it since.” 

Morrigan took her time in accepting what I said. When she came to her decision, she matched my determination. “I’ll convince Tarquin.” She backed away to winnow but paused. She opened her mouth  to say something but shook herself from doing so, vanishing from sight. 

**Morrigan:**

Besides for formal appearances to her Court, I never visited Cresseida. We could have arguments in the rest of camp so there was no need to take them to her personal quarters. That didn’t mean I didn’t know where her personal quarters were. 

Which was precisely why when I appeared outside them, her sea blue eyes had widened to disks. She rose from her desk to see me clearly, standing at the precipice of her tent and out of breath. Probably appearing like I had just come from a nightmare, dressed in my armor and still puffy from crying. I think the fact my cheeks were tear stained was the reason why she beckoned me forward instead of meeting me outside, or telling me it could wait for morning. 

She wore one of the Summer Court skirts that grazed her bare feet, colored dark blue and trimmed with silver and pears. A loosely tied robe at her waist of brilliant green color was the only fabric covering her chest. If she was startled by my sudden appearance, I was startled by hers as well. I hadn’t realized the Summer Court princess ever removed her armor. Or had skin underneath it for that matter. 

And then she turned and I saw her sea-shell sword still sheathed at her hip, ready for use. 

“What are you doing here, Morrigan?” she asked tiredly, leaning back against the desk. Scattered on it was a map of the Summer Court. 

“This morning we were ambushed. My...my family was hurt. They went into surgery this afternoon and the healers haven’t yet finished,” I started, making a fist to center me. Her eyes softened a little. “We need to finish this war and my Lady has found a way to do it. I am going to ask High Lord Tarquin to support her at tonight’s meeting.” 

Her eyes switched back to their impenetrable ice. “Why are you telling me this, Morrigan?” Her voice was equal parts accusation and disdain. 

“Because you said that I wasn’t your enemy,” I swallowed, recalling our words right before Hybern’s ambush. How she had looked when she said it. Like it took all of her energy to utter the words but once she had, the relief that even I had felt from her was blissful. “That makes us allies,” I said firmly. 

In a rare show of emotion, her lips quirked. “I suppose it does,” she accepted wrly. Straightening, “Then I guess I’ll have to help you gain his approval.” My returning smile was genuine. When she smiled back, I struggled not to lose focus of my goal. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I followed Cresseida through the Summer Court’s camp, I realized she didn’t wear armor inside her own camp. Another difference between our courts. Soldiers that recognized her bowed as we passed before shooting a confused glance my way. I suppose I should be grateful that’s all the looks I received. Cassian couldn’t enter the Summer Court’s camp without express permission from Tarquin or his court and even when he did, he was met with all the ice the Summer Court could deliver. And if Cresseida’s glares were any indication, they could deliver quite a lot. 

Thinking of Cassian brought fresh tears to my eyes and I blinked them back quickly before any fae caught wind of them.

Cresseida didn’t pause outside Tarquin’s tent. She didn’t glance at the Summer Court fae guarding it either but she did ensure I stepped into the tent right after her. “Morrigan is here with an urgent message,” her voice slipped into something bland, devoid of care and all her prior intensity. Varian and Tarquin were sitting at the High Lord’s table, waiting on the meeting that would happen in less than an hour. 

I could tell that neither of them had forgotten the last time they were in a room with me. They both regarded me with that cold casualness only Summer Court fae managed so well. Tarquin reclined in his chair, dipping his chin for me to begin. “The High Lords have made no progress on the upcoming meeting with the Human Queens.” When I had approached Cresseida the night of Hybern’s attack, I had let go of all the diplomatic words I could have said. I could have promised to never deceive her or her Court again. She would have believed my honeyed words whether she wanted to or not. 

My cousin was High Lord of the Night Court. His magic allows him to access things hidden in the dark, like people’s minds. Everything that comes from the night whether it was dreams or nightmares was his realm of power. Rhysand could create visions, illusions and false memories in a person’s mind which were stronger at night; with the ability to summon night, his power was near unchecked. 

My magic gave me a much narrower field of access but no less as effective when used right. Under my influence, the truth spilled from a fae’s lips and every word I spoke had to be true as well. So even if I had used all the political games in the book to convince Cresseida I wasn’t her enemy, I would have had to find a way to abide by those promises. But she never would have trusted me that way or ever again if I skirted the rules of my own magic so brazenly. 

I gave her brother and cousin the same respect by giving them the blunt truth. “If we wait any longer for the High Lords to agree, we risk waiting long enough for Hybern to launch his next surprise.”

“I’m aware of the frustrating nature of these meetings,” Tarquin stated. There was no emotion in his words but I could still sense his irritation from the lack of progress. 

“We need to force a conclusion to it. The only way we all will be united is if every High Lord provides a token of value for the Human Queens. Equal parts of sacrifice and we can convince the queens we are serious too.” 

“This has already been suggested.” 

“By the  _ Night Court _ ,” I emphasized. “And a Court alone can’t bear the weight of this. If you lend your support to my Lady at tonight’s meeting, then we can unify and convince the other Courts as well.” 

“Your Lady?” Tarquin straightened, obviously caught off guard that Rhysand wouldn’t be speaking for the Night Court. Tarquin’s brows furrowed as he considered. 

“My Lord cannot make tonight’s meeting.” I thought about cutting off my sentence there but now was not the time for more boundaries. I glanced at Cresseida who revealed nothing though I liked to imagine her eyes seemed warmer. “We suffered a terrible ambush today in the Spring Court,” I managed, having to clench both my fists to keep from focusing on Azriel and Cassian. 

“I am sorry to hear that,” Tarquin looked uncomfortable. 

“Who?” Varian followed up with, eyes assessing. 

“Cassian and Azriel,” I provided, wondering if this was all just a grand mistake. If the Summer Court fae were really just as duplicitous as the rest and I was a fool for hoping any differently. One glance at Cresseida’s face with her firm lips and depthless eyes, and I desperately hoped I wasn’t wrong. 

Tarquin nodded before Varian added, “Lady Feyre is High Lord Rhysand’s mate.” The way he spoke made my blood boil. As if to remind Tarquin about who he was dealing with and caution him against making any mistakes. 

“Lady Feyre is the same person she was when she went back to save the Summer Court fae,” I added, not bothering to respond to Varian’s open glare. To my immense pleasure, Cresseida also looked angry with her brother. “If you believe accepting a mating bond is enough to change her entire character then you must have missed all your lessons as a childling.” Varian’s nostrils flared. I saw the flash of a smile from Cresseida. I turned to Tarquin, pleading with him. “If you truly want to defeat Hybern and make Prythian better, then we need to unite. Not just as seven Courts but as a people.” I didn’t get the chance to see if the consideration in his eyes would turn into agreement. Voices approached and I left before I could be caught inside. 

**Feyre:**

I had only time to speak to Helion but I reasoned that Thesan would support Helion’s favor no matter what. But Helion hadn’t taken too long before he agreed to my proposition; instead, the majority of our discussion was what had become of everyone we rescued from Hybern’s camp. 

Though Helion was one of the oldest High Lords, his mind was just as cunning. I felt him needling for information long before he ever got to the question he actually cared to hear the answer to. His relaxed posture changed ever so slightly as he leaned in to hear my answer. His golden eyes had brightened noticeably. 

“And Lucien? I assume you found him among the rest of the fae as you two were close Under the Mountain,” he stared into his amber glass of liquor. The glass he had poured me remained untouched on the table. 

I wasn’t fooled by his feigned boredom. He was deathly still and had completely lost the languid smile he usually bore. I didn’t answer purposefully. It was my turn to relax into my chair, copying my mate’s posture down to leaning my chin on my hand. I cocked my head and let my feline smile grow. Helion turned to look at me. 

“He’s in the Night Court with the other refugees,” I said, wondering what this High Lord had invested in Lucien.  _ What do you want from my family?  _ I asked him quietly. If I knew it would have yielded answers, I might have tried to glean some from his mind. Instead, I had to use whatever I could gather from his unpracticed gestures. When Helion raised a brow as if to ask for more information, I added: “He’s healing.”

Helion’s eyes flicked back to his liquor glass, giving me full view of the taught muscles of his neck and how each one simultaneously strained. “Healing?” 

My sudden seriousness wasn’t an act. The image of Lucien’s back made me shiver and then itch to fight Hybern one-on-one. “Hybern’s soldiers didn’t waste the opportunity to hurt a High Lord’s son,” I said without a hint of softness in my voice. I wanted to find the fae responsible and tear into their flesh with my bare hands. I offered no more information concerning Lucien. Or that he had newly realized a mating bond with none other than my sister. After Rhysand had guarded our mating bond so fiercely to protect me from his enemies, I wasn’t going to share that piece of information. Lucien and Elain would decide what would happen. As for Lucien’s injuries and recovery, that was personal. 

Helion’s eyes regarded me carefully. I couldn’t make out the look I saw but I was sure to let Rhysand see this meeting later, after Cassian and Azriel had healed. I told myself they would be well so it would be true. It was the only way I had thought to keep myself functioning after my anger had settled into cold determination. 

His glass clinking on the table startled me from my thoughts. He rose from the table suddenly. “It is a lovely night for a coop, I suppose,” he shrugged. He offered me a hand that I took and when I joined him, he stared at me thoughtfully. Those eyes became unnervingly bright and I checked all my mental wards and that my magic was suppressed. His hand holding mine tingled with the same ward-piercing magic I also had. “You make a fitting Lady of the Night Court.”

My returning smile was feline, proud and natural.


	93. Mislead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

If there was any shock to be had from entering on Helion’s arm, it was ignored in favor of realizing I would be representing the Night Court instead of my mate. Helion released my arm easily to take his seat to my left and as I slipped into the chair Rhysand usually occupied, I watched several pairs of eyes stare at me with varying levels of indignation. I noted that Tamlin appeared especially discomforted by my presence at the table but his green eyes weren’t so hard. If anything, he watched me more so and others at the table had most definitely noticed. 

I kept my shoulders proud and chin level, not daring to let them see a single moment's hesitation. It helped that Rhysand had just sent word that Cassian had come out of surgery a minute before Helion and I entered the meeting.

Never to waste the opportunity to disappoint, High Lord Beron spoke first. “What do you think you’re doing, girl?” he glowered from across the table. That pale complexion made him look physically sickened by my presence at the table. The distance between our two chairs didn’t mean we couldn’t easily maim each other but I was glad I didn’t have to sit besides him anyway. Tarquin and Kallias seemed to share my sentiment at their positions on either of Beron’s sides. 

I refrained from making any faces that would derail the meeting any further than I already had. “Finishing these meetings before we waste anymore time,” I replied easily. “If you’re more interested in giving Hybern the advantage, please keep talking.” Beron’s nostrils flared but he stayed quiet. Over these meetings, I realized two things about the High Lord of the Autumn Court. The first was that he wanted to keep his power above all else and would likely kill his heir to ensure the power stayed in his family, he had more sons afterall. The last was that he hated Hybern more than anyone would have guessed. I had no knowledge of why the High Lord’s hatred was so strong but I suspected if I asked my mate, I’d hear interesting theories. 

Nonetheless, I braced myself for the plan I needed to succeed. 

Allyship was difficult business. Allies weren’t friends, they didn’t come together because they wanted to but instead due to shared goals. We all had the shared desire to keep on living and so here we all sat. Maybe with a few of them, I also shared the desire to skin Hybern from tip to toe. 

As unwitting allies, every Court wanted to ensure their own survival and if it came at the expense of another, then so be it. This was the problem with having seven separate Courts. Threats like Hybern didn’t stop at the Summer and Spring Courts but took the entire continent because alone, no Court stood a chance. 

My pride demanded that I mentally add the stipulation that the Night Court would survive but that would have been a lie. Cassian and Azriel had almost been killed in a single day because they had been alone and ambushed. If all Courts continued on separately as we have, we’d all meet with Hybern’s axe before spring arrived. 

“We’ve spent all our meetings demanding that one Court or another sacrifice for the remaining six. Even if one Court had offered to relinquish a piece of their power, the Human Queens would have no guarantee from the remaining six that we would behave.” I wanted to add that I wouldn’t have blamed them. Rhysand notwithstanding, I didn’t trust the High Lords either. 

Despite my general dislike of the High Lords, I kept my voice neutral. Condescending to near-immortals that had been alive before I had ancestors would not help my case. “For our own survival, we all must sacrifice something of value,” I nodded firmly, gauging their faces. I couldn’t tell if my words were the issue or that I sat in Rhysand’s chair. Or if it was me. All of them were staring at me with expressionless faces. Except for Tamlin who appeared to be waging a war within himself, his jaw so tight I believed I could hear his teeth cracking. 

“High Lord Rhysand has suggested this before,” Thesan nodded, eyes focused on the table. As much as I liked Tarquin, I couldn’t help but appreciate the calm and assessing demeanor of Thesan. He sat quietly and observed before contributing something of genuine value. That calculating mind paired nicely with his muted and relatively emotionless person. I’d only ever seen Thesan smile a handful of times and usually it was because of his peregryn mate. Even as close as Thesan was to Helion, he only showed rare, chastising smiles when Helion did something truly ridiculous. 

“And that shall be what we do,” I replied evenly, Thesan’s eyes flicking to mine. “In a couple days time, I will be traveling to the Human Realm to meet with the Human Queens. Each High Lord will be prepared to hand over whatever item they have chosen. If a High Lord doesn’t provide or the Human Queens deem them insufficient, then we’ll have no choice but to regard that High Lord as in league with Hybern.” 

The room sat quiet and I didn’t dare leech a single tendril of my magic to know their minds.

“My my,” Helion’s cheshire smile widened. 

“Did you just threaten us?” Kallias narrowed his eyes and stared at me with a look of utter contempt.  _ Finally _ , I thought,  _ I have seen the impressive glare from the High Lord of Winter.  _ If I had been lesser trained or a weaker spine or perhaps not as arrogant, I would have been cowed. 

“You said we,” Tamlin’s voice cut through the room and all heads swung to the silent lord. Like everytime Tamlin and I interacted, we drew the attention of these drama-starved fae. He sat unnaturally tall in his seat for a male who rarely contributed to these meetings. His chest was raised. “You said ‘then we’ll have no choice but to regard that High Lord as in league with Hybern’,” he repeated. Once again, all eyes came back to me and this time the High Lords were glancing at each other in suspicion as well.

“I have agreed to Lady Feyre’s plan. I don’t want to sit through another meeting like prey for Hybern,” Helion picked imaginary lint from his shoulder, glaring down Tamlin. Because Beron looked so old, I forgot sometimes that Helion was just as old. He had mastered in his centuries the unnaturally still voice that commanded a room. 

Tamlin’s look of resentment was enhanced by Tarquin also declaring support. “I have also agreed to support Lady Feyre,” Tarquin said without looking at me but his piece of magic stirred inside me. I’ve learned I could sense when the High Lord’s felt particularly strong emotions; I needed my Night Court ability to divine what they were though. I wondered what moved Tarquin so forcefully.

But his feelings were suppressed by the Autumn Court magic burning a hole inside me. I looked to see High Lord Beron nearly smoking. “You thought you could force us all into submission?” he accused with venom. His magic began to throb inside me and for the first time, my magic felt foreign to my body. 

Thesan cleared his throat. His soft voice was at odds to every other being sitting at the table, including me. “No, Lady Feyre found a way to unite us and with my support, she has the majority,” he then turned to me to say, “The Dawn Court will support your plan.” That left Kallias, Tamlin and Beron. I felt worse for Kallias who I never knew but now would likely never get the chance. 

Kallias’s eyes looked around the table before shaking his head. “I’ll agree to this plan,” he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. I’d have to make amends somehow. I hadn’t intentionally left Kallias out and had time not been a factor, I would have met with the High Lord myself. But likely, he’d see any attempts to regain his favor as pity. I already hated that I’d have to tell Rhysand about the damaged relations with the Winter Court.

Another pang of my magic inside me and I was drawn from my guilt to see High Lord Beron fuming. His eyes were pits of fire. “You’re no High Lord, girl. You think you can sit at this table and speak like we are equals,” he sneered, voice deep. “But I remember the human girl Amarantha beat senseless. Don’t delude yourself. You’re only tolerated for as long as you prove useful,” he rose from his feet and stared down at me a moment before leaving the tent. 

I told myself what he said didn’t affect me. I told myself I was stronger than him. 

I knew logically that what he said was true. If the matter at hand didn’t directly require my presence, the other High Lords would not have wanted me speaking either. I rarely did at the other meetings held but this necessitated my presence and role. I held the only line of communication between the High Lords and Human Queens. That was enough to make each one of them resent me. It was also a powerful bargaining chip that didn’t need me to announce how very real a danger I could be to them should they disagree with me.

Knowing all of this didn’t prevent my knees from feeling weak and my stomach from sinking. Face me with Hybern’s soldiers any day and I could find a way to beat them. Against the High Lords, I would have to rely solely on my combat training and the innate magic I held like Thesan’s healing or Tamlin’s strength. If High Lord Beron attacked me, even if he did face Rhysand’s wrath, it would be up to me to survive until then. That would have been a fair fight if the High Lord also held back their magic but knowing Beron, he would gladly melt my skin from my bones. 

“Tamlin, you agree then to the Lady Feyre’s plan?” Thesan asked without preamble. 

Tamlin stared at me as if he had Rhysand’s abilities to peer into minds. Though it was supposed to be tempting, I didn’t want to know what Tamlin thought of me. I would have to accept it likely wasn’t good. “Yes,” he said and I felt the room sigh with me. 

Feeling thoroughly worn out by the day, I wanted to crawl back into bed with my mate but was reminded that my mate was half a continent away. Of Cassian and Azriel, the latter I had yet to hear about. I stood from the table and proceeded to the exit, figuring the meeting was over as no one in the room appeared happy.  _ Rhysand,  _ I ventured. 

_ We are still waiting for Azriel to come out of surgery,  _ he answered immediately.

_ We?  _ I questioned. 

_ Nesta is sitting with me at Cassian’s bedside.  _ He sounded just as surprised as I felt. I knew Cassian and Nesta were close but my sister had pushed everyone away after she was Made. I didn’t think she would let room for anyone to stay while she healed. Nesta, on her best days, would confide with Elain but ever since being Made she confined herself to her room, avoiding Elain as well. She rejected my touch along with anyone else's; barricading herself behind heavy clothes and cold fronts. All my attempts to broach the conversation had ended when she turned and left the room, as soon as I opened my mouth. At times I grew angry with her but really all I felt was guilt. I'd succeeded in pushing my sister further away and this time she was completely alone.

It seemed Cassian had found a way into her heart and refused to leave it. Despite the circumstances, I smiled painfully at the thought.  _ Cassian’s just come out of surgery so Azriel should come out soon.  _

_ Why do you say that?  _ I asked, hopefully. 

For the first time that night, my mate sounded joyful when he replied,  _ Azriel never liked being second.  _ My chuckle, although choked with bitter tears, warmed me. I’d have to start making daily prayers to the Cauldron and Mother soon. Despite everything this war had put us through, I felt lucky. Stupidly lucky that I felt practically untouchable and all powerful. A couple of hours ago, my family had almost been torn to shreds and now we had come out together. I'd never been devout but I was grateful all the same. It was a second chance. 

"You have to be more careful than that," halfway between Tarquin's tent and the Night Court's camp, Tamlin had followed me. I checked the mental bond between Rhysand and I so I didn't throw this conversation his way. As much as I didn't like Tamlin, I didn't want Rhysand to feel as if he needed to fight over me.  It was the third time Tamlin had siezed the chance to address me when I was alone and the coincidence wasn't lost on me. If Rhysand were here, Tamlin would run the risk of outright challenging Rhysand and though all that territorial bullshit seemed nonsensical, it did give Rhysand permission to legally main Tamlin. The barbarism of the fae was also not lost on me either. 

I shrugged, determined to make it to the Night Court's camp where Tamlin wouldn't follow. But I heard his footfalls not too far behind. I rested a hand on the hilt of my sword as a precaution. "Stop attempting to advise me, Tamlin. You are not my mate. Or my High Lord." 

"That _thing_ isn't your-" I spun, my hand squeezing down on the hilt. 

"Finish that sentence and you'll have to worry about my reaction soon enough," I spat out, watching his shocked expression carefully.

"You are endangering yourself with the other High Lords, playing their game. If Rhysand cared, he would never allow you near them," he replied, teeth slightly bared.

My instincts were hammering on the gates to my magic. One slip and I'd choke the air out of his lungs. I never saw red quite so vividly as I did in that moment. "As opposed to being safe with you? Yes, I would be so safe with you. I could see our wedding now. The dresses. The flowers. The blood dripping from my arms and the bruises all hidden behind layers of tulle," I hissed, hoping everytime he winced he could feel the pain of what he put me through. But I wished most of all he could finally see himself from where I stood and how helpless he had kept me. "I can and will play their game for as long as it takes to win this war, Tamlin. And my mate has given me the skills that I don't have to worry about theirs _or_ your wrath anymore," I stood to watch his face fall and then harden. I didn't march away from him. I had reached the border of the Night Court camp and would not be forced to retreat into my own home. I would watch Tamlin turn and walk away, hopefully for the last time. 


	94. Soften

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this *clap* was *clap* supposed *clap* to *clap* be *clap* a *clap* short *clap* chapter *clap* send *clap* help
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

For the first days following Cassian’s surgery, he was noiseless except for that damnable wheeze that kept me close to his bedside. Any other sounds that disrupted my ability to hear Cassian’s breathing made my heart lurch. I’d freeze and wait until his own pulse found its way back to my ears before I could relax again. 

Though at one point, this changed and Cassian no longer slept like a corpse. Instead, it was impossible to ignore the male. He was an unconscionably loud sleeper. He groaned, snored and farted more than any person had a right to. He slept the days away though there was no chance I could forget he was there. When he slept, his noise announced his presence and when he woke, his merciless taunts filled the air. 

I noticed whenever Madja was present, he was excessively polite. All attitudes fell away for the elder healer. Her orders were headed and never challenged but sometimes he whined. Madja would pinch his ear tight and tell him to stop acting like an Illyrian pup. 

This worked well for me. Since I had not left Cassian’s bedside except for my own care, Madja had thought to involve me in all of Cassian’s maintenance. I’d make his sleeproot tea and she had spent an afternoon showing me how to apply the drush root. She frowned when she saw that I meant to wear my gloves regardless of how the drush root would stain them but said nothing. Madja insisted we apply the root when Cassian slept; he wouldn’t wake for it since he likely hadn’t felt sensation from his wings since his injury. When asked, she said that Illyrians were taught to guard their wings above all else and Cassian would reflexively move his wings away from us. Moving Cassian’s right wing before it could heal might prove disastrous. 

So Madja and I spent the mornings when Cassian still slept applying a thick coat of the thick and sticky substance. Drush root was toxic to humans and caused whole-body paralysis. To the fae, it merely numbed them when applied topically. It smelled like licorice and mud but felt like a granular honey. It stained Cassian’s skin even darker and I had to ask Nuala to acquire me additional pairs of gloves so I could switch between. 

Madja saw my books on Illyrian physiology and smiled with unspoken approval. She would point at the muscle and bones on Cassian’s back and tell me their function. She pressed my gloved hand against the humeral bone that attached directly under his scapula. Moving my hand softly over the area, she found the tendons that held the muscle to the bone; Madja told me that I could gauge an Illyrian’s speed by how the tendon and muscle felt. That young pups sometimes required additional exercises to develop the area if they were malnourished; that prolonged malnourishment usually manifested as a slight bowing to the bone. She refrained from pointing out that Cassian’s own humerus were notably curved. 

With several inspections of my work that felt like I was being tested, Madja gave her nod of approval to let me work by myself. She’d only come when Cassian woke in the afternoon to inspect the healing and then to get Cassian out of bed so he could bathe or use the chamber pot. I made myself scarce during those times. As entertaining it would be to taunt Cassian as he did me all those days ago in the refugee camp, my human sense of modesty and propriety still drove me from the room. 

Alone, I fell into a routine I had craved. In the warm morning sun, I’d open the curtains to let in the light. I’d grind the drush root fresh in a stone mortar and pestle and sit it out to warm in the sunlight. I’d read until the room smelt heavy with licorice. Elain would come up with fresh hot water from her morning tea with Lucien and I’d dip strips of cloth into the water. Slipping on a newly boiled pair of gloves, I’d use the wet rags to wipe away the old root and then use healthy amounts of the freshly made drush root to numb the flesh again. 

If Cassian’s muscle wasn’t completely covered in sickeningly yellow and green bruises, I might have appreciated the proximity more. My own nerves took away from any enjoyment to be had. Whenever I came close to him, I needed to use the majority of my focus on suppressing my magic. I couldn’t afford any accidents so I divided my attention between inhibiting myself and applying the drush root as steadily as I could. 

My magic sought new ways to escape and it usually happened while I slept. I had slept in one of Cassian’s chairs the first few nights and then when he was suitably stable, I had found my own bed. I woke up the next morning to find all my blankets and sheets had singed. It was terribly apparent that the more I pushed my magic down, the more it spilled out; the more I rejected it, the colder I felt and hotter I burned. 

I was at a loss for what else to do. Feyre had said her magic first summoned as total darkness, serene and like a night sky. My magic was awakening, as she called it, like a wildfire ready to consume the world. To make it worse, I heard Hybern in all my dreams and nightmares. His voice echoing in the back of my mind like he was on the other side of the door. 

Yet as cold as I got, I never sought out a bath. I had tried. Sat on the edge of the tub bare naked and shivering, attempting to put a single toe beneath the water. I’d errupted into cold sweats, vomited all over the floor and cracked several tiles. I was lucky Rhysand and the inner circle never entered my room as I’d have no way of explaining the damages. Only Nuala knew when I asked her for more sheets or to repair the water basin I had cracked once more. 

When I woke up in sweats and couldn’t stomach hearing Hybern’s voice a second more, I’d creep back up to Cassian’s room to read. I kept the books I borrowed in his room as Nuala had placed special emphasis on their welfare and ultimate return. Between Cassian’s breathing and the rustling noise when I flipped the page, I could calm myself enough for a couple more hours of sleep. 

Elain tried to see me. She brought baked goods for Cassian and I. She attempted cooking, nearly burned the house down in the process, and then told me it was edible to eat. Lucien, that lovestruck fool, wasn’t phased by the half-burned chicken. She could have handed him rocks and he would have thought it gold. Azriel and I, however, had found our eyes meeting from across the table and sharing the same thought:  _ no way _ . 

In the end, we both ate the food she made and asked for seconds. 

She still got lost in her mind. I thought she had been dozing by the fire. Upon second inspection, her eyes were glossy and confused. She squinted at the air like it had offended her. It was her magic that drove me away. It danced around the room, flicking in and out of existence. It touched on everyone and then when she was right about to come back, all those little trails of light would run back to her like she had called them home. Whenever her magic touched me, it fizzled on my skin and no amount of layers could stop it. 

Even when I was away from her, they’d find me like bloodhounds. 

I knew the point was moot in avoiding them and all I could do was brace myself. But I feared my reaction. My magic. 

I hadn’t yet burned her and if I had it my way, I never would. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It happened when I noticed that Cassian’s bruising on his back had nearly disappeared. When I washed away the old root, I noted the slightly paler skin. No scars littered his back.  _ Illyrian’s guard their wings above all else _ , Madja’s words echoed in my mind. 

At one point, Cassian would have to rise on his own and rejoin the world. I struggled to come to terms with my feelings on the matter. I didn’t want him to stay bedridden but when he did go to train, he’d have to face his own weaknesses. As someone who had done the same when imprisoned in Hybern’s camp, I didn’t wish that harsh reality on anyone. 

I shook myself from my thoughts and accepted with clinical coldness that Cassian would have to face it one day. He’d just have to not act like an  _ Illyrian pup _ as Madja so fondly said. I smeared the drush root on the base of the humerus. It was an awkward reach for me. His wings were fanned out and I had to walk around them to get to one side or another. It didn’t help that Cassian slept directly in the center and the bed was atrociously large. 

I didn’t have to look to know Cassian had woken up especially early. His back tensed and quickly spasmed but that didn’t stop the snarl that ripped viciously from his throat. The sound echoed in the room. My arm vibrated where it touched his back. I started backwards but his hand caught my wrist, heedless of the sticky mess coating my gloves. His grip was so tight. I thought when I was Made that the Cauldron made me indestructible. I could only break things around me and I had yet to come across another that could ruin me.

With his hand threatening to snap my wrist like a twig, I had been proven wrong. My magic might be deathless but my body sure wasn’t. Panic built inside me. My power was rising to my side and I slammed against it with all my weight. 

“Let go of my wings,” he hissed. On top of my panic that Cassian would move his wings was my hurt that it was the second time Cassian woke, believing I was threatening him.

“Cassian, let go,” I stuttered out. “You’re hurting my wrist.” Maybe it was my panic or fear but Cassian’s ears twitched and his hand snapped away from mine. I had to check I hadn’t burned him too but I couldn’t smell any burnt skin like I had on Feyre.

“Nesta?” his voice was hoarse and he craned his neck, attempting to see me over the span of his wings. He swore loudly. 

His torso attempted to lift from the bed. “Stop moving,” I snapped and he laid back down. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he bit out. 

“Changing out the drush root, you idiot,” I rushed to reply. Blood rushed to my head and I found myself breathless. “You haven’t woken up any other day. I didn’t think you’d pick today to act like a raving lunatic.” 

“You’re touching my wings, standing where I can’t see you-” 

“Did you think I would hurt you?” I snapped out. He went quiet until only his heavy breathing could be heard. I flicked my ears to better hear the racing pace of his heart. “Last time you woke up, you had the same response. Do you think I could hurt you?” I asked, clenching my hands tightly. My eyes stung. I clenched them shut, biting back on the sudden burst of emotion. 

Magic tingled on my skin and I was too exhausted to care. If anything, I was grateful for the sudden burst of warmth in my veins. 

He swallowed. “Of course not.”

“Then why are you scared of me?” I demanded immediately. The licorice smell of the drush root cloaked my nose and I looked down to see I had burned through my gloves. I tore them away, disgusted by the lack of control. If my hand had been on Cassian’s back, that could have been his skin. “Why didn’t you stay away?” I left alcove where his wing and lower back met, crossing the room to get another set. 

Cassian could finally see me. I didn’t turn to face him. “Because I can’t,” he said too quietly. 

“If I scare you so badly, why can’t you?” I spun to face him, lips pursed to keep them from quivering. I half hoped he couldn’t smell the salt of my tears. From his crestfallen face, I knew he had. My bones rattled under my skin and if I shook anymore, I'd fly apart. 

“I’m not scared of you, Nesta,” he said firmly. I opened my mouth to retort but he beat me to it. I bit my cheeks to silence my reply. His focus was trained entirely on me. “I am not scared of your magic. It’s powerful and nearly has a will of its own but I’m not scared of it.” He dragged in a breath, near panting on the bed. In my anger, I had exerted the patient I was attempting to heal. Shame and disappointment clouded my mind, turning the sweet air bitter to me. “I...I am scared but not of you. I’m scared for my wings. I don’t know if I’ll fly again and anytime someone gets near, I feel my heart beating that much faster,” he stammered, jaw locked. He averted his eyes from me. 

“No one else touches your wings,” my voice lost it’s edge. I felt bare again. I’d shown all my thoughts and didn’t know what to do now that I had. I wanted to take all them back, prevent them from ever being seen. Keep Cassian from ever knowing what kept me awake at night. 

“I thought Madja was seeing to my healing.”

“She figured she’d teach me since I spent my time here anyway.” 

“That was a recklessly stupid thing of Madja to do,” he sighed out. I didn’t mention that I had asked to be taught. His eyes came back to me and he half-smiled, eyes roaming over me in a way I didn’t entirely mind. He huffed a tired laugh, some hair blowing out of his face. “I’m not scared of you or your magic, Nesta.” 

“Why?” I was barely breathing. My chest was too tight. Any minute now my magic would jump to prove him wrong. What I could do was unnatural. I was a thing that belonged in nightmares. 

He smiled at me but his eyes were sad. “You know why,” he said quietly. I could only nod. We had no pretense with each other. I wouldn’t lie to him. I knew where his heart was and I had to begrudgingly admit mine had found a home with him as well. But he came dangerously close to crossing the imaginary line we had made the night Hybern kidnapped me. The line that kept us at a safe distance. Surely if we ever came together, we'd consume one another until there was nothing left. “Besides,” he drawled. “Anyone who knows you like I do knows the most fearful thing about you is your tongue.” 

My face flattened. “I was going to finish applying the drush root but I think you need a little pain. You’re speaking like someone who isn’t afraid to die.”

“You’ll protect me,” he gave the best shrug he could while lying down, laying his cheek on his hand to settle down. The other hand beckoned me closer. 

“Or kill you,” I muttered, grabbing the bowl of drush root from the desk, but he laughed anyway. 


	95. Relive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:  
**

The market smelled crisp from the fresh snow we got last night. I breathed deeply until my nose practically stung. The air was loud with chatter but not so loud to hurt my ears. A million laughs and conversations reached my ears and I drew off the collective excitement in the stalls.

I would never get over how bright the world seemed to me now. Stimulus flooded my senses in the most pleasing ways possible. Even the simplest of foods tasted richer to my tongue; I could still taste the sugar from my morning tea with Lucien. I’d brush a hand over the skin of a persimmon and knew how bruised it was without having to prod and poke, even through the warm fabric of my gloves. 

But that was nothing to my sight. I could see fine details from leagues away. Dew on the leaves that still hung from the trees above me. The slightest change in purpling under Nesta’s eyes when she had a particularly bad night. The sweat beading Lucien’s brow when he came back from seeing Madja for his back. 

I wanted to go along with him but he was particularly private about his time spent with Madja. It was the only part of my day I spent without him besides for sleeping. He walked better each day so I assumed that their sessions were positive but he kept the matter discrete anyway. When I had broached the topic, I’d been startled by the emotions that I provoked with the question. Blends of shock and discomfort were expected but layered on top, in almost a suffocating amount, was nervous fear and shame. 

Then I had my answer. I knew the true extent of damage Hybern had caused Lucien. 

It made me grip his arm linked in mine tighter like the small gesture could stay all the ugly in the world. I was compelled to search for him, not that I had to look very far. When he didn’t summon his magic, he was like a candle with stray tendrils of light coming off of him. When he did, I suspected he would have blinded me if I looked at his magic with my human eyes. 

And usually, when we went outside into the cold, he pulled on his magic to warm me while we walked. He stood faithfully besides me while I picked out the last apples of the season while Cerridwen selected groceries for dinner. She didn’t speak much but I found that all the conversation to be had was really in her playful glances. Cerridwen had a disbelieving expression while haggling over some freshly ground cornmeal. Her lips pursed, her eyes flicked to me and widened incrementally as if to say,  _ I’m not buying this. _ I bit my cheek to keep the giggle from surfacing. __

Between the fire pits spread through the market and Lucien’s warmth, I could hardly feel the winter chill. Unlike how the flames warmed my skin, the warmth from Lucien was not harsh and far more soothing.

I hummed in contentment. 

It was easy during the day to hide from the uncomfortable memories and visions. They didn’t find me when Lucien was near. 

I inspected a green apple. I wasn’t too fond of the tartness but Lucien favored them. Before I could place it in my basket, Lucien plucked it from my hand. I was quick and yet he was infinitely quicker, placing it back on the farm stand. His chest was pressed to my back to reach over my shoulder. When I was human, I smelled the spice of him. Now that I was fae I could practically taste the scents that were subdued like pear and fig. 

Lucien refrained from leaning on me even as he stretched over me, always polite. Yet he was so close his jaw nearly brushed my cheek. His eyes were focused on the stand and I watched, enraptured, by his hand grazing over the selection. He seized a different apple towards the back and brought it to my hands. “This one is good,” he told me while he deposited the weight into my cupped hands. I forced my hands to relax before I bruised the fruit. 

“You have the better eye for this,” my throat was dry. “You should pick.” 

He chuckled and his breath puffed against my cheek. Though both of his eyes were trained on me, the metallic one continuously refocused. “If you insist,” he agreed, turning back to the apples and I could breathe again. There might have been only enough space between us for the layers of our clothing but I still leaned back into him anyway. His left hand, holding his cane, dug into my waist but all I focused on was the closeness. Comforting as a hug and as pleasing as something far more devious. All the buzz in the market died in my ears in light of focusing on his breathing and the heart that thudded against my back. 

Yet Lucien’s hand never faltered like my heart did while it picked apples from the stand. His eyes appraised and his lips were firmly let. I was caught by how the clean angle of his jaw met with his throat, where his adam’s apple bobbed and the skin of his neck disappeared beneath the brown tunic he wore. Even under close examination, his skin looked forged like metal, bronze or gold. His hair fell from behind his ear to brush against the exposed skin of my shoulder from my off-the-shoulder dress, a style I had thought risque this morning.  _ He hadn’t rebraided his hair yet _ , I thought dazedly. 

And then Lucien was looking at me too. The bond between us was a doorway into his mind and my distracted thoughts couldn’t glimpse more than the feeling of unapologetic fixation. His hand near my waist pressed into the flesh there and I took in a small, surprised breath. He took in the motion and a sly grin spread across his mouth, knowing and pleased with his results. Instead of feeling exposed, I felt powerful and compelling. I knew the influence we held over one another other were twins with equal amounts of sway. I could see it in the dilation of his pupil and feel it in the scatter of his breath. 

I knew what Cassian and Rhysand had called him.  _ Fox.  _ With several origins for the nickname and all equally likely, I wondered quite often about the real beginning. Though it all boiled down to cunning wit and I wasn’t about to be outmatched by him, by my mate who was supposed to be my equal in all things. 

My smile widened and turned saccharine. I pressed a kiss to his cheek and withdrew in time to see his lifted eyebrows and parted lips. I desperately hoped he could feel how much enjoyment I derived from his shock. 

I wove my fingers through his free hand, squeezing some life back into him. “We should get moving,” I smiled, gently tugging him after me. He needed no more encouragement, launching into step besides me despite needing his cane. I could feel his frazzled mine attempt to piece itself back together again and I suppressed a laugh of untamed joy. When I was with him, I was weightless. “Why don’t you keep your hair braids?” I asked, watching his dazed expression. 

He glanced at me shyly. “Raising my arms like that can be...a little strained,” he admitted quietly. 

“Do you miss them?” 

Once again, he glanced at me in an attempt to divine my motives. He shrugged but I didn’t believe the casual gesture. “They are from home. I got them when I was little and still training. But I haven’t been home in a while so I guess it’s time to let them go.” Another glance. 

“You got them?” 

A half-smile. His eyes were far off. “In the Autumn Court, males train and can braid their hair when they have mastered a skill.” 

“You had two braids,” I let the question go in favor of watching his reminiscent face but couldn’t get past the bitterness of his sorrow. Like a depthless pit inside him that he routinely had to stare into from time to time. My hand tightened in his but so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t return the gesture. 

“For ward detection and for flame whetting,” he answered absent-mindedly. 

“Flame whetting?”

“I could use my magic to sharpen a blade to an ultra fine point,” a reminiscent smile played on his lips. Watching his face balance between nostalgic and anguish was too much for my heart. I tugged him towards an empty bench on the Sidra. I gestured for him to sit but he stood confused, having been just pulled from his thoughts. I stepped close to him, pressing a hand to his chest and guiding him to sit down. He watched me curiously, question resting on his open lips. 

I sat the cloth bag of green apples on the space next to him and slowly peeled off my gloves to toss them with the apples. I stepped between his legs before turning to his hair. There was no need to be so close but I liked it. “I liked them,” I mumbled, bringing my fingers to the pieces of his hair at his temples. 

His hair was smoother than I had ever thought possible. Once my fingers threaded through his hair, it was impossible not to want to thrust my entire hand through to feel how each strand glided over my skin. His eyes watched my face despite my hands slowly working a braid from his hair. The braids were small and not immediately at the temple but just behind. I attempted to recreate the tiny braids as best from memory, tightening the braid till it looked right. 

“I can’t go there anymore,” he said quietly. I hummed my question. His free hands reached forward to feel the fabric of my skirt, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m banished from the Autumn Court,” I paused only momentarily while I braided. I nodded, keeping my face carefully open. “Do you want to know why?” 

“If you want me to.”

I looked to see his eyes painfully bright, staring at me like an open wound and bleeding all over the ground. My mind reeled at the other blood filled images it had seen. He gulped. “What if the answer changes how you see me?”

I opened my mouth and then promptly closed it. After all, what could I say to that? Only that I often wondered if he would look at me if he knew the origins of Feyre and my relationship. But I wanted him to know me even if that meant having to divulge every ugly part of my soul, the parts that continuously got darker day-by-day. On the second try to speak, I succeeded. “I watched Feyre enter the woods when we were younger. It was winter and we were starving. She didn’t know how to use a bow and arrow and that didn’t phase her. I’m older...I should have done something. Took up the bow or at least gone after her but I never did,” my voice grew quieter as I spoke and choked. Surprisingly, no tears came to my eyes. I’d cried myself too many nights over these thoughts and had no more to shed. 

Lucien’s eyes were impassable but that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel his understanding. The connection leading me to him reverberated between us. Recognition dawned on his features and he bowed his head, “I fell in love with a female. Jesminda. She was not...I wasn’t...I’m a son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” I was no longer shocked by this revelation. Not after hearing it chanted into the night while in Hybern’s prison, not as they shouted it in rhythm to every lash of the whip. “She wasn’t noble or magically gifted...she was just Jes to me,” I hated where this story was going. My throat closed up. I had seen this tragedy countless times in my mind and him speaking it to me made all those terrible events true. All those deaths and people had been real; they’d loved just as fiercely and they died just as easily. “My father found out and he...had her executed as a lesson. My brothers held me back and...and I watched her die.”

My fingers were frozen in his hair, trembling. My knees gave and caught his thigh. I wrapped my arms around his head and brought my face into his hair. My nails dug into his scalp. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered against his hair and ear. 

“Why should you be sorry?” he asked, voice muffled but still incredulous. There was an edge in his voice he rarely ever spoke with. His hand came to rest on my forearm like he’d push me away if he had the will to. “It was...I was the one who failed. Jes is dead because of me. I earned that banishment,” every word was enunciated and practiced; lies he’d been told a hundred times over again and that he’d told himself. 

“No one deserves cruelty."

He wasn’t hearing me. “I can’t...you’re not safe with me, Elain.” 

My mind recoiled but my body tightened. I could feel a piece of me digging it’s heels in like the roots of a tree, preparing for a storm. “So you’ll walk away from me?” I asked, my heart had stopped beating, I was sure of it. 

“No,” he hissed out as if stung. “Never. I wouldn’t.” He quieted and the riot of emotions from him had no clear direction to me, scarring me further. So far from the steady and calm male I knew and yet I recognized his terror. “I wouldn’t falt you if you wanted to.”

In a moment of sheer panic, I spat, “You don’t walk away from the people you love and I don’t plan to anytime soon. If you’re going to leave then do it now,” I felt him freeze under my touch. But I was still heaving with anger and fear. I didn’t want to know what life felt like without him. If I had to watch him leave, I wouldn’t care. 

His hand on my forearm tugged and I pulled away. He lifted his head. His eyes weren’t turbulent anymore but determined. His voice was quiet and dry. His touch was practically electric to my senses. “If you’d have me...I would never walk away.”

I heaved a sigh. “Haven’t I already said that?” a wry smile formed on his lips. My exasperation was apparent. I ignored all sense of modesty in favor of sitting on his thigh from exhaustion, sweat clung to my forehead. My heart had been thoroughly wrecked from our conversation so I took the time to lean into his warmth, relaxing into his body. Lucien slowly reclined into the bench, gathering me into his arms and holding me tight. The two of us sat that way for the remainder of the day, leaning onto one another like it’d keep us safe.


	96. Kindle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta say I surprised even myself here.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

When it got late, Elain became noticeably tired. As the sun was setting over the Sidra and ocean beyond, we walked back to the townhouse in companionable silence. Despite our silence, I didn’t feel worry for what we had said. We were both raw with emotion and needed time. It didn’t surprise me then when we arrived and sat before the fireplace, Elain promptly fell asleep besides me. 

A door upstairs clicked open and shut followed by quick steps down the staircases. The only other person in the house with that range of mobility was Nesta. Nuala and Cerridwen were entirely silent and undetectable. Azriel still needed to hobble around because his side was just beginning to heal. Cassian was bedridden. 

“What happened?” Nesta asked once she got to the foot of the stairs. She didn’t need to clarify, her focus was on Elain sleeping besides me. She appeared even worse than yesterday. Her eyes were sunken and had purple splashes beneath them. Her gauntness did nothing to help the severity of her profile. A pang of guilt went through me that I had been so focused on Elain that I had neglected Nesta.

How she knew Elain had been upset was a matter I wanted to question but had no energy to at the moment. “I upset Elain,” I admitted. I couldn’t lie to Nesta. To me, she was still the human who talked back to the High Lords. “But I didn’t mean to hurt her. I think she forgives me,” I finished quietly, looking at my hands in my lap. Nesta might be a tenth my age but she had spent her years caring for Elain and that was quite a bit longer than I had. 

Nesta, to her credit, did not tear me to shreds. Her jaw stiffened. She edged closer to the fire and stood with her back to it. The light of the fire at her back gave her an eerie halo and shadowed her face. “I’m still human,” she said quietly. I squinted at her. “Fae customs aren’t mine,” she clarified, shaking her head. Some more brown hairs freed themselves from her braid. “So I don’t care if you two are mates. She isn’t yours and you can’t keep her with you.” Logically, I knew Nesta was saying nothing I hadn’t already accepted myself. My instincts, however, didn’t abide by rationale and reasoning; my body went rigid. I tethered myself to the couch by gripping the armrest until my fingers ached before I could grab Elain and pull her to me. My jaw ached from how tight I clenched it. Nesta didn’t miss my inner struggle. “Not if she doesn’t want to and I expect you to respect that,” she finished. 

I forced myself to give a rueful smile. “You can’t protect Elain from all harm, Nesta. As much as you or I may want to, at one point she’ll be hurt-”

“You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, keeping her voice low and quiet so Elain wouldn’t wake up. I was surprised Elain hadn’t woken from my own inner struggle alone. I immediately sought out our mating bond. I felt the swirl of her magic and knew her visions had captured her mind. I didn’t prod her magic further. 

I’d hadn’t seen Nesta and Elain in Hybern’s prison until they went into the Cauldron. I’d seen Nesta grabbing at the bars of her prison cell with terror in her eyes, watching her younger sister make perhaps the last walk of her life. I imagined that our faces at that moment were very similar. No horror could quite compare to that moment of being truly powerless. “I didn’t mean to imply that,” I said, glancing down to Elain’s still face while she rested against my shoulder. I realized on a second glance Elain’s face was too still to be sleeping. I wrapped my arm around Elain’s shoulder, pulling her close. “I know you don’t understand, don’t care,” I murmured, finding my instincts were softening as Elain’s presence pushed away all need for concern.  _ I was here with her. She was right besides me and wasn’t going anywhere.  _ “I know that Elain can reject me any day she wants.”

Nesta’s ears flicked again and I realized she still was listening to Cassian, two floors above us. She crossed her arms across her chest, raising a brow at me. “And you would accept that? Her decision? Even if she said she never wanted to see you again?” 

My back ached and chest seized at the thought. I swallowed through it. Elain’s earlier words comforted me and urged me forward. She’d looked so benevolent. With that half-smile and pained eyes, watching me like she’d been waiting for me to come to the same realization she had. The beautiful flush across her cheeks and slight breathlessness that accompanied her tender gestures. I grinned without any mirth, nodding to Nesta’s question. “I’ve been wondering these past few days why she hasn’t said that already.” 

When Nesta had come down the stairs, she had looked like she had when I first met her: standing imperiously in Elain’s garden like she would use the book in her hand as a weapon if it came to it. Even when I had taken Nesta and Elain far from the Human Realm, she’d held Elain close to her chest and glared at me suspiciously until she had joined her sister in sleeping. Practically deaf and half-unconscious, she found enough willpower in her to care for Elain. 

The fae female in front of me wasn’t the same human woman no matter what she said. The same human woman would have never accepted my words or gestures of good faith. But the Nesta before me did with a sorrow in her eyes that belonged to those much older than her mere two decades. "We might share that in common," Nesta said and retreated up the stairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up to Elain thrashing against me. Once again, Elain’s deceiving strength catching me by surprise as her clenched fist jabbed into my ribs. I called her to no avail. Her face was still painfully still. Even while her body pushed and shoved, her head lolled back and forth like a dead weight. 

_ She looks like the dead _ , my horrorifed mind insisted on whispering. 

I reached for the mating bond as a reflex. Her magic was still an impassable wind that no amount of grasping would allow me to catch. Like a barrier that protected her from me, I couldn’t sense her emotions despite her obvious external distress. Panic began to unsettle my thoughts and my instincts pulled at me, demanding I help her. I warred within myself on whether or not I could or even  _ should  _ attempt to pull her from her mind. There were too many things that could go terribly wrong. 

_ I should have asked Rhysand about this.  _ He’s the only mated male who’d have actual answers even if I mentally dragged my feet at having to ask him. But Elain’s palpable fear made all those concerns seem foolish in hindsight.  _ Where is that cocky bastard when you need him?  _

Elain’s whimper pushed me onward. I grasped her arms tightly, pinning her in place against the cushioned couch. I opened the gate to my magic and directed it towards the mating bond, illuminating the connection until I felt physically tethered to her. My magic only swirled around hers, buffered by the current of her magic. I gave more of my magic to bring little progress, sweat beading at my brow. Her magic protected her so faithfully. It was almost it’s own being and completely independent of Elain’s free will. 

_ It’s like a ward _ , I thought belatedly. 

As soon as the thought came to mind, my magic had seized it. Like a piece of myself shifted, the dam broke and a tidalwave of unrecognizable magic surged forward with renewed vigor. Her magic unraveled itself under my command and untangled itself. Each fiber of it revealed to my eyes and ready for further observation like I had been blind before but could see now. 

It was bright and more raw, older than the dawn of time and seemed to spread outwards from Elain like threads, connecting her to the rest of the world. 

At the center of it all, Elain was staring back at me. She didn’t look confused. She had been just as aware as I was, trapped and looking outwards instead of in.  _ Those glorious brown eyes.  _ I never wished to see her glassy blue eyes ever again though if my suspicions were correct, they were a part of her now. 

I knelt before her, sliding my hands to grasp hers in her lap. “You go somewhere...when you have these visions?” I whispered in a voice so low I didn’t think Elain would even hear. She bit her lip. Nodded. “You see things? Real people...people you know?” Another nod. Her eyes glimmered wetly in the dim firelight. “But you can’t interfere?” Another nod that I shared, feeling her feigned bravery through the bond. “Elain, are you a Seer?” I asked, imbuing all the softness in the world into my words. All the books I had read on Seers had said they were near myths. The last Seer having died during the War and it’s gifts not passed from parent to child, the gift had vanished for nearly five centuries. Holding Elain’s hands in mine was the only confirmation she was tangible. She appeared ethereal with her gift, now visible to me, emanating from her like rays of light. 

Her chin wobbled. “I don’t want to be.” I brought her against me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me, clinging tightly. “I can’t...can’t. I tried to tell you what I see but I  _ can’t _ ,” she whispered against my hair, breath tickling my ear. 

“You don’t have to explain to me,” Seers were not well known at all. There had only been one book on them at the Spring Court. A couple more from the Autumn Court because they had taken them from the Day Court and transcribed what they could before returning it. But even all of their combined information was just a single piece of a larger and more complex image. The only real hope for more information would rest in the Day Court. 

“I tried but my words came out wrong,” she said. “I see...so much that I don’t want to. The only face I haven’t seen is yours and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.”

I decided that must be a good thing but the franticness of her movements to me now made sense.  _ I might not inhabit her visions because I’m her mate _ , I thought wryly.  _ Or that I might not have a future.  _

In light of our grim reality, I had only so many choices. 

I gathered Elain into my arms, cradling her close like I had so often before. She didn’t question me, wrapping her arms around my neck to rest her chin on my shoulder. Her trust echoing down our mating bond and encouraging me onward. My back had ceased it’s aching and I found the timing appropriate. I’d need all my strength after all.

I walked to the front of the townhouse. The air was cold and crisp from the recent snowfall. The night sky was never ending above us, glimmers of orange and yellow flickered tellingly. The ward guarding the entire city shimmering among the stars told me all I needed to know of Velaris’s history. It was older than the Wall and crafted so carefully to be virtually undetected. 

“Where are you going?” 

I shouldn’t have been surprised Nesta had sensed the upheaval. She nearly blended into the dark with her clothing, covered head to toe. I felt a pang of regret when I looked at her. “I need to find someone who can help Elain...I’m sorry-”

“Alright,” Nesta cut me off, eyes falling to Elain. “You’ll bring her back safe.” 

“Yes,” she hadn’t been asking me and I hadn’t been assuring her. There was only one future we agreed on. “They’ll feel it when we leave. Will you tell Feyre I still remember the promise I made?” Nesta’s eyes brightened and I knew she remembered when the Wall came down as clearly as I did, despite the chaos from that night. She nodded stiffly, casting that same sorrowful gaze at Elain before we winnowed out of Velaris.

Velaris had been warded so heavily to prevent winnowing in and out. To prevent accidental discovery. To prevent magical sensing. All these wards layered over eons to protect the secret city inside. Yet the new pool of magic I found inside me recognized the ward and easily parted it’s woven fibers until Elain and I had slipped past, resetting the ward behind us. The air still rippled from the temporary breach. 

My first winnow was out of the city. My second jump took us south, to the Day Court. 


	97. Steal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:   
> Me: *as dramatic as Rhysand, crashing Feyre's wedding*
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

I woke so violently that I bashed my head into Feyre’s jaw. She cried out, clutching it. I reached to cradle her. Her bare skin was warm under my hands but all her hairs were raised on high alert. Sitting up with me in bed, she stared wide-eyed at me with panic evident. Those blue eyes searched mine. I felt her mind pressing against my mental barrier like she could figure out what the source of my fear was from across the wall. “Rhysand?” she asked, voice muffled by her hand. 

“Something is wrong, we need to go to Velaris now,” I could hardly speak. The magic of Velaris was tied to the High Lord of the Night Court. Each of my ancestors had made immense contributions to it’s continued strengthening. If I were to die without any successor then the wards, supposedly an independent structure, would remain standing; however, I was still tied to it. There was always the chance that wouldn't happen. Magic didn't _always_ follow the rules, especially not so much raw magic.

It normally acted as a solid dampener on my power. I didn’t have to worry about draining my stored magic as I continuously fed the wards. Since we entered the war with Hybern, I had to leave the ward maintenance to Amren to free up my magic to store for battle. But as I was thrusted from sleep and bed, the ward reminded me how integral it was to my power. 

I could hardly look at my mate’s pale face. So soon after losing and then saving her family, I knew her mind was focused on them. Elain had just awakened from whatever trap her mind set for her. Nesta still rejected all company except for Cassian's. If Hybern had reached them again somehow I didn’t know what I could offer in comfort. Cassian, Azriel and Lucien were all still injured. Either Amren or I would need to remain in Velaris. If it came down to it, I’d stay and beg Amren to join the war and save my mate’s family. 

Feyre and I got dressed quickly. Neither of us commented on why we put on our armor and sheathed our weapons. I summoned Mor from the camp and we three winnowed to Velaris when Amren confirmed the wards were prepared for us to enter. My second met us outside the townhouse, at least an ankle-height layer of snow blanketing the city. 

It was dead quiet. Everything was still peaceful. The wards above still shimmered lazily. At complete odds with the pounding of my heart and rapid darting of my eyes. I pushed all my abilities to their natural limit to detect the slightest thing amiss. I hated how my mind insisted on dredging up the worst of my fears. Velaris, for a moment, looked like West Maritch. The Spring Court city of corpses and spirits that Hybern had made and had left to rot for days, unnoticed by all. I didn't want to enter the townhouse anymore. 

To ease my worry, I debated asking Amren to hunt the city for anything foreign or malicious.  _ Would something want to get in or escape?  _

“What happened?” Mor asked while we all walked into the townhouse. 

“Something passed through the wards for Velaris,” Amren stated. Feyre made a noise and shot for the stairs. “Whatever opened them, sealed them again” 

“Have all the refugees been accounted for?” I asked. My hands felt like ice. I hadn’t thought the fae prisoners we rescued from Hybern would try to escape. My ego had left me entirely too blind. I’d thought the beauty of Velaris would overcome any fae’s fears of the Night Court; completely missing that perhaps they had a reason to hate the Night Court.  _ I know I have done enough in my lifetime to earn their aggression. _ I’d opened the doors for attack in my own stupidity. 

“Madja hasn’t sent word yet,” Amren replied. 

Feyre’s influx of emotion quickly veered into relief and then dread. She opened our mental link and I could tell she restrained herself from shouting.  _ I know what caused it. Bring Amren and Mor to Cassian’s room _ . “Come,” I said to my first and second, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the third floor. “Amren, I want you to hunt the city after this meeting. Mor. You’ll take Velaris’s perimeter. I don’t care if we know what caused this. No one is leaving or entering the city tonight until I’m satisfied nothing got in or out that doesn’t pose a threat.” 

We walked into Cassian’s room to something that would have been funny had the situation not called for mutual terror. Nesta was reclined on Cassian’s settee with several books stacked besides her. Cassian, most likely shaken from his rest by our commotion, was laying on his chest and unable to turn over. His wings still spanned the entire wing and written across the right membrane was  _ Illyrian pup  _ in, if my nose was to be believed, drush root poultice. I’d have suspected Madja immediately if not for already knowing Nesta had hardly left his side this entire time. 

I didn’t care that Nesta hated me. Nothing she said hadn’t already crossed my mind.  _ Most of her words I told myself daily _ , I shrugged. So I only felt warm appreciation for the coldest Archeron sister for staying by Cassian’s side. 

Nesta’s opinion of me hadn’t changed if the scowl on her face was any indication. Though that could also be for the amount of people in the room. Or for waking Cassian from rest. Or her irritation could have been  _ from  _ Cassian. Either way, Nesta’s lips were pursed and she closed her book hard enough for it to  _ snap.  _

“Well what was I supposed to do?” She asked. 

“Quite literally anything else would have sufficed,” Feyre shot back. Azriel had come into the room, dressed in his churidars and shirtless with bandages strapped over his lower abdomen. His face was grim while he leaned against a wall. Mor took to his side, resting a hand on arm in assurance. At our entrance, Feyre turned from her glaring match with Nesta. Her eyes seemed to cry out  _ I’m sorry I’m sorry _ . “Lucien winnowed out of Velaris with Elain,” she said. Azriel and Cassian, who had heard this before, had similar pained expressions. Cassian’s head fell into the pillow. 

Mor whimpered, jaw falling open. “How the  _ fuck _ did he do that?” 

Amren scoffed. 

I closed my eyes, blocking them out for the moment. My head throbbed for the conversation that would come next. Feyre’s guilt through our bond made sense.  _ She felt responsible for them after all. Her instincts wouldn’t let her off so easily no matter what I said.  _ I crossed to Feyre’s side to take her hand. Her eyes were already watery. “I suspected for sometime that Lucien might not be High Lord Beron’s son,” I stated, letting the facts fall over my court’s faces. 

Feyre turned quizzical eyes on me. “But he has the Autumn Court fire.” 

“The Lady Juliette of the Autumn Court is from one of the High fae lines. She’d have passed down the magic down to her son,” I clarified. Cresseida and Varian also possessed the same Summer Court magic as Tarquin despite not being from the same line. Viviane as well from the Winter Court. Kier, unfortunately, also shared some of the Night Court magic with a long list of nobles in the Court of Nightmares. 

“Helion is Lucien’s father?” Mor squinted, lips curling in distaste. 

“Though it’s hard to believe it, Helion is just as old as Beron.” 

“I say he lucked out then that Beron isn’t his father,” Cassian grumbled from the bed. His face still pressed into his pillow. Azriel huffed in agreement. Any amusement that Helion was a father fell from Mor’s face in exchange for nausea. 

“How do we know Helion is Lucien’s father? Couldn’t any of the other High fae from the Day Court have been his father?” Feyre asked. 

“Perhaps but since Lucien just stepped through thousand-year old wards like a door, his magic is too powerful to be anything but from Helion,” I answered my mate. 

“No wonder Beron banished him,” Mor sighed. “Do we know where they went?”

Feyre’s soft expression turned to steel, whipping towards Nesta. “No.” 

All eyes went to Nesta. Nesta, to her credit, didn’t wince. Or seem affected. Though Cassian kept his face down which Nesta had noted as well. “Lucien said he needed to find someone who could help Elain. Not where he was taking her.” Nesta glanced to Feyre. “He said to tell you that he still remembered the promise he made.” 

“That isn’t…” Feyre began but cut herself off. She sighed out, brows worrying together and her eyes clenched shut. The salt of her tears joined the room's heavy scent of drush root. I squeezed her hand. _All this power and all I can do is hold her hand._ “You don’t know where they went?” 

Nesta recoiled. She leaned forward like she was about to part the wards of Velaris herself to follow Lucien and Elain. With the magic she stored inside of her, she’d more likely shatter the wards entirely. “You’ve all been going on about the  _ majesty  _ of the mating bond and so I thought Elain would be safe with him-” 

“She is safe with Lucien,” I stated, knowing my mate needed to hear those words just as much as Nesta did. Nesta stared hard and long at me but eventually reclined back into her seat. The steel grey of her eyes flashed a moment but I hadn't seen more then a glimmer of light. 

“Then what is so wrong?” Nesta bit out, eyes darting around the room. 

Before I could answer, Amren beat me to it. She scoffed loudly, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Nesta glowered a look that could whither Hybern and his army. “That’s the problem with you young immortals,” she spat. “You’re given the power but you didn’t grow into it. You didn’t spend centuries learning from your mistakes. You have no respect for it.” 

“Lucien risked the entire city of Velaris tonight,” I stated. 

“Is Lucien and Elain our enemy now?” Azriel’s eyes were darkened by his bowed head. His voice was so still. Even his shadows didn’t waft about in their careless ways. When he looked up, I could see wet shine in them. 

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat and she made a choked noise. Each time she did that, I remembered the second trial Under the Mountain. Amarantha had kidnapped Lucien and made him a sacrifice _and_ the night’s entertainment. Feyre had made a similar noise then when she watched her friend beg for his life. I pulled her to my side by her waist but it didn’t feel like nearly enough to calm either myself or her. 

“Absolutely not,” she bit out, eyes challenging anyone in the room to oppose her.  _ There is my Lady _ , I thought with bittersweet pride. “Lucien might be an idiot and Elain, careless, but it wasn’t malicious.” 

“No one is going to kill Lucien  _ or  _ Elain,” Mor enunciated, watching the panic in Feyre’s face subside only a little. Nesta, oddly, kept her head bowed and she stared at her lap where her hands clenched her book tightly. “But if Lucien  _ is  _ Helion’s son, that makes him Heir to the Day Court. Velaris is no longer secret.” 

My inner circle stayed quiet. They knew where this road led to. 

“Wipe their memory,” Amren shrugged. She wasn’t entirely wrong. I had sliced out memories like a surgeon from the fae who risked Velaris’s discovery. I'd done it telling myself it was necessary. Justified it with any reasoning I could. It only happened a few times but I could not justify making the city vulnerable for a single memory.  _ The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few _ . So many of my ancestors have justified this practice by continuing the tradition of ruthlessly guarding the secret of Velaris. 

Feyre’s face was strained but she kept quiet. She had also agreed to protect Velaris no matter the cost. I had asked her countless times if she was prepared to sacrifice for her people. Erasing Lucien and Elain’s memory of the city would be the most bloodless path to ensuring Velaris remained safe. The act would take a pound of flesh from Feyre and that wound would fester for the rest of her life.  _ Like mine had.  _

“No.” 

All heads shot up to look at me. 

“We preached unity at the High Lord’s meeting. We can’t hypocrites now. Lucien and Elain are not our enemy.” 

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with your mate?” Amren raised a brow. 

I hadn’t picked Amren to be my second. Amren had taken it for herself. She could take the High Lord’s position from me any day. All seven courts if she wished it. However, just as she refused to involve herself in the war with Hybern, Amren didn’t revel in bloodshed and power. She wanted peace and Velaris had been that to her. “It has everything to do with Feyre,” I answered. “It was bound to happen that our inner circle would expand. We can’t jealously guard ourselves from allies. Not anymore.” 

“It would leave the city vulnerable,” Mor had also found Velaris to be her refuge. A place her father, family and the Court she left behind couldn’t find or touch her. _I’d be damned if I invited the Court of Nightmares into Velaris._

“All cities are vulnerable. Velaris was only lucky,” Nesta shot back. Mor looked pained but she agreed with a nod. 

“Once again, your youth makes your tongue reckless. Velaris has preserved this beauty for thousands of years. To expose it would be to spit on every life lost protecting it.” Amren glared and Nesta returned it, ignoring the magic Amren had seeped into the air. I wondered if Nesta even felt it. “If you are going to continue being so rash, then give what you took back to the Cauldron before you hurt someone.”

All motion in the room ceased. 

“What?” Mor asked, glancing between Amren and Nesta in a confused way. Feyre froze next to me, her fingers digging into my hand. She swayed a little. I tightened my hold. 

Mor crossed the room to sit by Nesta. “What did you take from the Cauldron?” Mor's voice was so quiet, placing a tentative hand on the book in Nesta’s lap. Cassian hadn't moved from where he laid but I wasn't fooled. He was just as alert and barely breathing as the rest of us, if not more so. 

Nesta only stared at Mor’s hand on the book. When Mor withdrew her hand, the palms were covered in soot. The book was singed from where Nesta had touched it, even through her gloves. 

Nesta’s eyes looked bitter at the display. But when she looked back to Amren, I could see the confusion. The terror at what she could do. Empathy welled inside me. Memories of countless accidents I had caused stuck with me more than the actions I had willingly committed. Though I'd be lying if I said I forget any of what I had done. From how Nesta looked, I knew she had already drawn up her list of crimes. 

Nesta’s eyes were beseeching Amren. “You went into the Cauldron, girl. Only you know what you took,” Amren shrugged, losing the hardness in her voice. 

I didn’t know if I had taken a single breath for the entire conversation. 

Nesta stared at her lap. “I took all of it.” 


	98. Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the reader, Nsfw!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

Despite winnowing straight into the heart of the Day Court, no alarms were raised. Several fae dressed in characteristic white robes greeted Elain and I in the foyer without so much as a brow raised. Not that I would have wanted to, but I would have set Elain down to walk herself had she untangled her arms from around my neck. My mate had not been inclined to do so and I was enjoying her closeness. Her forehead pressed against my neck and soft breaths tickling my skin. 

None of the fae asked what we were doing there either. I couldn’t tell if that was a specific response to us or if that was another odd attribute of the Day Court. 

The Night Court had a reputation for all untame and unspeakable acts. It’s people, uncivilized and followed only the laws of the heart and power. The Day Court was, of course, the antithesis. It’s people ruled by cool rationale and motivated by a clinical thirst for knowledge. It should have come as no surprise they welcomed Elain and I if only to see what we wanted and learn what we knew. 

The two fae servants merely led us down a white marble hallway that had large vaulted ceilings with circular windows for sunlight to enter during the day. The dark halls were lit by orbs of soft, warm light that floated along the halls. The floor to ceiling windows and doors that lined the walls were currently covered with golden curtains that shifted with an unfelt breeze. I discreetly looked for the tell-tale sign of their libraries while the servants walked ahead. I had never been to the Day Court before and I refused to let the opportunity to explore their famed libraries pass me by. Of course, I’d need to see them if I was to help Elain too. 

One thought towards the bond and I felt my mate’s mind quite in sleep. She’d fallen asleep in my arms again. A small, satisfied and pleased smile formed on my lips. 

They opened double doors to reveal a largely empty room except for a massive futon that was sat before a wall made from glass windows and doors. Though the night obstructed the view, I could see the firelights of the villages below. We were overlooking a valley of some sort; I looked forward to the following day all the more so. 

Having been in the Night Court so long, I was used to the sky illuminated by nebulae and stars with the northern lights dancing above. Brilliant shades of blue, purple and green that filled me with wonder. Now that I was outside of it I could see how unassuming and regular the sky appeared which filled me with a peculiar sense of pity for the other Courts. 

Once again, the room had more vaulted ceilings and intricate gold inlay on the walls that gave the room a simplistic opulence. A large table made from a cross-section of a tree sat to one side with wooden chairs besides it. At the center were several inkwells, quills and sheaths of paper. Some of the chairs had books stacked on them too. I looked around for even a single bookshelf but the walls were bare except for a single armoire. 

I glanced at the bed again. Elain had fallen asleep in my arms countless times: on a horse, in a chair, on a couch. Not quite the same as sharing a bed; I blushed and was secretly glad my mate remained blissfully unaware of that fact. I hadn’t felt such a degree of embarrassment since I was a young, green fae without any sense of how to touch a female.

The servant, bizarrely keen on my thoughts, pointed towards where golden curtains hung on the wall. “Though that door is the adjoining suite, Lord Lucien,” his dark brown eyes glimmered with amusement. He wore only the white skirt and a long tan roughspun cloth that began at one foot, wrapped around his neck and draped towards his other foot. On the tan cloth were several golden embellishments but I hadn’t time to inspect more closely. “Will you need anything else?” 

“No, thank you,” I said, not even checking if that was true of not. I just wanted the fae male to leave. His eyes continued to drag up my body from head to toe, heedless of the female I carried in my arm. I would have let the glance pass as just another strange Day Court interaction had it not been for the suggestive lick of his lips. The blush on my cheeks extended to my neck, shoulders and entire body until every part of me felt warm and awkward. 

“You can call on me anytime you would like, Lord Lucien. I’ll return in the morning-”

“Why?” I asked, flustered. 

He grinned. “To help you dress and prepare for...breakfast.” He dipped into a bow that managed to come across as lewd before excusing himself.  _ That male would not dress me or my mate in a thousand years if I had anything to say about it.  _ Thinking about him anywhere near Elain made my blood boil, serving as an excellent diversion from the suggestions he made towards my own person. 

I pulled back the white duvet and deposited Elain as gently as I could onto the feather down mattress. She didn’t stir. Her eyelashes fanned over her freckled cheeks and lips were slightly parted. Her honey shaded hair, completely freed from it’s braid, cascaded over the pristine sheets. I brushed back a strand to tuck it behind that delicately tipped ear and immediately withdrew before I woke her. Tucking her into the blankets, I left her to sleep in peace after a long glance.

Though I couldn’t justify closing the curtains between our adjoining rooms entirely. I closed the glass doors but left the curtains parted towards one side to relax the instincts that didn’t want to leave her side.

I kicked off my boots, thankful the Night Court favored boots without laces and pulled off my tunic. I fell into bed and had no other thoughts before my mind fell away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I started awake. My hands fisted in the sheets. Completely disoriented, it took me a moment to take in my new surroundings. I was so used to the Night Court’s healing hall or the townhouse. The vaulted ceiling and floating faelights tipped me off first. My eyes caught the shadow next to me and I spun, finding Elain nervously crouched over me. “Elain? What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching for the hand that undoubtedly poked me into waking. Sensing nothing amiss from our bond, I sought out her apprehensive and wide, brown eyes. She still wore the purple kaftan dress from the Night Court that tightened in an enticing manner at her curved waist. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Could I crawl in with you?” she asked, the hand I held was fidgeting. There had been millions of times I imagined Elain in my bed and not a single one helped me formulate a response. My mouth remained slightly agape. My mind went blank.  _ Did I mishear?  _

The longer I waited, the more I could smell her embarrassment. I nodded dumbly. Her mouth formed a relieved smile that exhaled quickly. In one swift movement, she had crawled over me to the other side of the bed and under the sheets. It happened too fast for me to relish any moment of it but I far preferred the sight of her with the blankets brought up to her chin. Her eyes missed nothing as they took me in. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes,” I answered before any type of mental filter could stop me.

She accepted this answer anyway. “Would you hold me? At least till I fell asleep?” 

She felt the need to assure me that I wouldn’t have to hold her forever.  _ Like I’d complain _ , I thought. “Of course,” I nodded, once again in no control of my responses. She rolled onto her side expectantly. I beheld the slope of her spine like it was a work of art and I wasn’t supposed to touch it. I inched closer to her side of the bed so slowly to give her time to tell me to stop. To tell me I was close enough. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked over her shoulder at me to watch my hesitant approach. I stopped when there was a small but polite gap between us and I carefully laid my arm around her waist. She intertwined her fingers with mine and then pressed herself flush against me, closing any remaining distance. She sighed in relief and nestled her head into her pillow. The scent of honeysuckle puffed into the air and my head felt light with heady elation. 

For all I could tell from our bond, Elain was content. It was  _ me  _ who was continuing to wrack their nerves. But I couldn’t relax. Nothing about my reality felt real. I was sure if I blinked it would be morning and this would be another dream. That never happened. Elain fell asleep again in my arms and in a bed we shared. It took her relaxing for me to follow. I could finally tighten my hold around her waist and let my nose press to where her hair fell against her neck. She felt snug against my body. Lush and soft and everything I needed to send me back into a blissful sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke with my head still firmly pressed into the junction of Elain’s neck and shoulder. From her heartbeat and our bond, she was still asleep. Early morning light filtered in through the windows across from the bed, making the room shimmer from all the golden embellishments. The blankets were wrapped around us, tangled in our limbs and still warm from our bodies. I could feel her magic drifting lazily against mine. The bare skin of my chest against her back felt right. She fit against me so well, every curve finding a home with me. I sighed out in contentment. 

I pressed my nose back against Elain’s shoulder, taking a deep breath of her smell that could potently ease my nerves. It was warm and light like the air on a summer afternoon. Relaxed and effortless. Elain breathed out, tilting her head back against me. Her hand raised from the sheets to catch a few strands of my hair spilling over her shoulder. She watched the copper strands catch the sunlight. They looked like embers in a fire. She tilted her head back. Her glossy waves brushed against my skin. Our eyes caught. Every gold fleck in her eyes multiplied in the sunlight and the gold-embellished room. 

She smiled shyly. Her eyes drifted to my lips before rising back to my eyes. With painful hesitation, she lifted her chin to press her lips against mine softly. Her lips were plush like they had been the first night we kissed. My hair pulled from where her fingers intertwined with the strands. I broke the kiss, watching her eyelids lift in confusion. I couldn’t say I didn’t enjoy that she was put off by losing my kiss. Her lips were almost pouted. I smiled at the sight. She lifted a single eyebrow, daring me. Right before she tugged my hair harder until our lips were back against one another, this time with more urgency. Her warm breath skittering across my face. Her other arm wrapped around my neck, assuring her and me that there would be no escaping.

My hand at her waist squeezed tentatively the soft flesh. She had fully spun to face me and pressed her chest into mine, her grip on me tightening. Her dress constrained her but her ankles threaded around my calves. What had begun as an innocent greeting had turned needy and turned the air sweet with her thinly-veiled desire. Even through our bond I could feel her want that reflected my own, quivering with a need for fulfillment of something we both had diligently suppressed. I reached down to grab her thigh through her dress, pleased to find the fabric bunched up around her waist. The soft, bare skin I found there begged for further exploration and worship. 

Her gasp, barely audible over the pounding of our combined hearts, prompted my hand to squeeze her thigh tighter which only thickened the scent of her desire. The honeysuckle of her scent blended with honey, sweet and heavy. I was entranced by the reactions I elicited from my mate. How every movement against me was so unpracticed and genuine with the smallest of prompts. Each one of them was a small gift that only urged me forward. I wanted to know intimately all the noises she made, each moan and keening cry that taunted my ears, especially how to draw them out of her. 

Her tongue along my lips drew me from my thoughts, her hand brushing against the bare skin of my back. She touched over a healing scar and I flinched instinctively, the skin was new again and still so sensitive. “I’m sorry,” she winced, eyes fluttering open. 

“It’s alright,” I whispered, bowing my head against her clavicle to catch my breath. My senses barely caught up with me. 

“What are you thinking of?” she whispered, already aware of the growing hesitation inside of me. Her own emotions began to match my own, with undertones of nervousness added in as well.

“I don’t want to rush you,” I breathed out, smiling privately at how her chest tightened by the sensation. Her core was pressed against my lower abdomen and I enjoyed the proximity. How she trusted me so much that she abandoned senses of propriety. How she loved me regardless of all my past wrongs. 

_ She deserves better.  _

“I wanted to do this right. I planned to do this the proper way...court you...propose to you-” 

Her hands came to either side of my face, lifting me to look at her and killing all the words I planned to say. Her eyes were warm and tinged with some far-off sadness. “The plans we made for ourselves have done us no favors. I don’t want to wait for perfection because I love you _ now _ . I trust you  _ now _ . This moment is right. We can plan for the rest of our lives together and I want to start  _ now _ ,” she finished, chest heaving against mine. I laid half on-top of her but her hands on me told me I wasn’t going to move away from her anytime soon. 

I smiled, watching my happiness reflect tenfold in her. _My mate,_ I thought happily. _My mate who knew what to say, who knew me better then I knew myself._ I curled a strand of her hair around my index finger, drawing the smooth curl through. “I love you, Elain.” 

“I know.” Her eyes weren't taunting. Instead they were open and understanding. 

Watching her eyes, I leaned down to kiss her once more. First, tentatively. Letting her lips respond to mine. Letting myself sink into the soft feel of her. The second was more insistent. Her mouth opened for my tongue. Her core pressed against my body with need. None of our desire had died, we had merely held it back. We could finally release it back to one another where it belonged. I rubbed my thumb in exploration of the creamy skin of her inner thigh, loving the supple flesh I knew I would find there. Her head tilted back, a soft moan escaping her lips. My body went hard and soft at the sound, nearly giving out entirely. 

I wanted to touch more of her. I wanted to see the pale cream of her skin hidden beneath the layers of her dress. I wanted to see how rose to meet my touch. I left her pleading with want to grab my small dagger off the nightstand. She watched with unveiled want, nodding eagerly.  _ I trust you _ , her eyes spoke to me. 

Needing no further beckoning, I hooked the knife through the neck of her dress. Elain didn’t lean away. Her eyes watched my face the entire time, knowing I wouldn’t knick her. That I could never hurt her. I pulled the knife through her dress which cut like softened butter, falling away to reveal a new expanse of skin to my eyes. Her breasts freed themselves from the confines, perked in the chill morning air. I helped tug the dress until it came free of her arms. Meeting her eyes for permission which pleaded with me to continue. Her lips fell open, watching as I lowered my mouth to her nipple. She licked her lips, anticipation apparent. The first contact and she bowed against me, crying out. The scent of her desire flooded my nose.

Restraint abandoned me. Both my hands fixed at her hips to keep her squirming form still under me. My cock, still contained by my pants, rubbing against her bare slit was threatening to turn me bck into a young, green fae. She was so wet my pants had already dampened. I was entranced by her reactions. I wanted to see it all, everything she had to give. I lowered one of my hands to the soft lips of her slit, ears flicking to hear her breathless gasps. My eyes caught the flush of her cheeks and haze of desire coating her eyes. 

Her eyes met mine. She bit her lip. “Please,” she begged.  _ That would be my favorite noise undoubtedly,  _ I thought while pleasure flooded my veins. My mate’s squirming only intensified the pleasure she felt, my fingers brushing barely over her clit and taunting her lips. When her head rose for a second time, I slipped one finger into her and my eyes nearly rolled back into my head. She was dripping wet, my hand soaked with nearly one pump. Her cries of pleasure filled the room; I found myself immensely appreciative of the Day Court’s vaulted ceiling that echoed her. 

I watched her breasts heave in the morning light, saliva coating my mouth. I leaned forward, taking her nipple back into my mouth and running my tongue over the tight flesh. Her fingers wound their way through my hair, nails scraping over my scalp delightfully. I breathed out a moan as she tugged. My other hand pressed down on her abdomen to keep her steady while I mercilessly fingered her. My thumb circled the bud of her clit and she bucked against my hips. “Lucien,” she breathed out, tilting her head back into the soft mattress. I gently took her nipple between my teeth and the scent, sight and taste of her intensified. All my instincts were drowning in the sensation of her. 

Finding some strength to move on, she pressed her core into my hand. Her eyes were wide and burning with desire.  _ No more teasing _ , I thought.  _ For now.  _ I unbuckled and kicked off my pants until I was kneeling before her. Her face was flushed bright red, eyes flicking down to my hard cock that laid on her lower abdomen. Honeysuckle filled the air. I clamped down on my instincts to push inside of her with no more waiting. To bury myself in her wanting core and tear new sounds from her throat.

I brushed my hand down from her knee to her waist, her leg curling against my waist. The air stilled. All our attention was focused acutely on where we connected and where we didn’t. Her spread legs bared her slick core to my eyes and I promised myself I would take days tasting her, my eyes rolling back again. She was naked before me and I felt just as bare in her eyes. All my scars open to the fresh air, the visible and not alike. 

My right hand hooked at her knee, raising it to spread her further. I slid slowly inside of her, watching the pleasure and pain across her face. Only when she moaned did I move further, rocking against her to ease the discomfort. She was so tight around me, I breathed deeply to keep myself from finishing so quickly. We sighed in combined relief when I was fully inside of her. Her slit wept against me, slicking my skin. Sweat trailed down my back. Her eyes met mine and I pulled out, pushing back in just as quickly. 

Her hand at my scalp tightened again, her chest bowing upwards towards me. I moaned out when she rolled against me as well, her pleasure mounted in the back of my mind. My hand on her knee tugged her forward and I entered her deeply. Her answering moan encouraged me forward. I increased my pace into her. I laid on top of her, sweat building between our bodies. She held me flush against her, one hand buried in my hair and the other gripping my shoulder. Our moans combined and echoed in the room, encouraging a faster and more frantic pace until we were dissolved by our pleasures. I could feel her climax building as surely as my own. The pressure and tightening of my nerves that promised release. My instincts clamoured to finish the bond and find a deeper sense of unity with the woman before me. 

Light blinded my vision, our bond glowing radiantly in my mind’s eye. The completion of it giving me as much of her pleasure as she did of mine. I kept rocking slowly into her, milking the sensation for her and pressing soft kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her face was soft devastation that smiled so tiredly and so happily at me. 


	99. Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Everyone in the room stared at me. Their wide eyes laid on me, crushing me with mixed shock and horror. The silence was deafening to me. Or maybe it was the blood rushing past my ears. 

I didn’t look to Cassian on the bed. I forced my eyes far from his face. The rest of their judgement was manageable but I could not handle his. His presence overshadowed the rest and even in the crowded room, it felt like it was just the two of us. The weight of his stare was by far the heaviest and acted like gravity, making it so natural to turn to look at him. I didn’t want to know what he thought of me. 

I didn’t know what I wanted him to think. 

What lived inside me was repulsive. It was the same thing that had turned all the fae into monsters; I remembered vividly the sallow skin of that fae emerging with long, spindly arms and the  _ click click click  _ of it’s oversized teeth. It’s gums weeping blood and saliva. The guttural noise it made that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than sheer terror. It knew what came next and Hybern’s soldiers didn’t dissapoint; they sliced at it’s legs to immobilize it, like it hadn’t already been helpless, before running it through completely. It died with that wheezing noise caught in it’s throat.

There was nothing good in my magic. The only good outcome of what I had done was I knew then what I had taken had put an end to Hybern’s control over the Cauldron. It was no more than a piece of crockery and I relished in his anger. 

It had taken a long time to understand why Hybern’s voice echoed in the back of my mind at times. But the Cauldron had provided me the answer in a nightmare. Or, as I had come to know, a vision. I was standing inside a war tent with Hybern and his generals. He had laid it out for me in so many words while raving. He knew that Elain and I had stolen the Cauldron’s power and he had lost us. Taken from him, right under his nose while chained in his dungeons and by the male who he hated above all else: Rhysand. 

Knowing Hybern hated Rhysand more than anyone else in the world elevated my opinion of the High Lord. But I wouldn’t tell him. 

What made my small satisfaction complete was him knowing it was me who had taken it.  _ I have lied to your face and have taken your greatest weapon _ . It only took a thought of what Hybern had taken from me to sober my mood. 

“What do you mean you took it all?” Mor stared at her ash covered hand like she’d never seen soot before. Her proximity unsettled me but I was too scared to move. My magic was already heated from the arguing. If I lost focus now, I’d turn them all inside out and paint this room red.

I remembered the night I was Made with astounding clarity. I could still smell the brisk air in the Spring Court, the earthy scent of wet grass and mud, and how it was close to raining that night. When those soldiers led me to the Cauldron, I refused to show any fear. I stuffed all my trembling and whimpers deep inside me where they couldn’t surface. They had turned into rage within. I didn’t want Hybern to die. I wanted him to suffer and a good, clean death would have been too easy and too honorable. Him and every soldier in that camp needed to meet a terrible end that made them beg the Mother’s mercy. I’d only sleep well at night when I knew they all had suffered. 

When my head went under the Cauldron’s blistering magic, I hadn’t asked for it to save me for my sister’s sakes or so I could return to Cassian. I demanded that it Make me. I required it’s power for my own purposes and didn’t care for the consequences I’d reaped on myself. 

“There had been no choice when I went under,” I said. The room had waited in silence on my response. Their focus never faltered. Even Amren with her soulless eyes devoured the information I released. “I took and didn’t ask.” 

“You’ve been suppressing the Cauldron’s magic this entire time?” Feyre asked. Her blue eyes were just as wide as when she was a baby. Overtime, they had become edged with distrust that I’d been ashamed to admit I contributed to. They were often overshadowed with thoughts and emotions. Not anymore. Reduced to their baby blue again with soft regard for me, begging me to be her big sister again. 

“It’s escaped me sometimes,” I admitted quietly, glancing at the book that had slowly turned into ashes in my hands. There was no heat from it. I wasn’t burning the book like Lucien would have. I only reduced it until it was nothing but ashes in the wind. 

Mor slipped her hand into mine, heedless of the ruined book and squeezed. Her hand wasn’t warm like Cassian’s but I felt it nonetheless.  _ Why does she continue to keep close to me?  _ She was just as persistent as Cassian was except I did nothing to encourage her to stay. That probably was enough. With Cassian, I actively attempted to push him away. “Does this mean I should begin praying to you?” Mor asked, a half-smile on her red stained lips. I huffed a laugh even though I felt hollow. 

“It is a wonder you haven’t turned this city to ashes too,” Amren stated, voice hard. All mirth from Mor and I fell away. Backs straightened in the room and they were all reminded what terrible power lived inside me.  _ It was for the best _ , I thought.  _ They should know what they kept under their roof.  _ I had selfishly lived with them for so long, risking all their lives for my own comfort. 

“Nesta controlled the Cauldron’s magic without training. I’d say its less wonder and more strength,” Feyre ground out, eyes cutting harshly towards Amren. 

Amren’s eyes slid from Feyre to Rhysand, tilting her head. “Keeping her inside the city puts every life inside it at risk.” It was funny that the place I had resisted going to for so long had now become the one place I never wanted to leave. I had ignored all of their pleading before for me to stay in the Night Court in favor of staying close to Cassian. My decision had landed me in Hybern’s prison, turned Elain and I fae, and nearly killed Lucien. 

I resolved that whatever fate they chose for me I would accept. 

I told myself it had nothing to do with how silent Cassian remained during this. How he hadn’t quit looking at me.

“The same can be said for everyone in this room, especially yourself,” Rhysand said. 

Nobody would have thought Amren soulless from the way she spoke. “This is not the same. You grew into your powers like the rest of us. Feyre Awakened like a normal fae. _She_ adopted the Cauldron’s magic overnight.” 

“This Court does not hide from each other. My decision is final. She remains and you will train her,” Rhysand replied. Rhysand and I locked eyes and for once I didn’t see any of that cocky male I detested. I saw the unnatural shade of his violet eyes and that darkness that covered him like a shroud. He looked as out of place as I did. “You will work with Amren.” 

One glance at Amren and I could tell she relished the idea as much as I did. They left the room one by one. Mor squeezed my hand before going. Feyre stayed behind and approached me but stopped when I flinched. My magic knew her already. It had one taste of freedom and it would jump at another chance. When she came near, it writhed inside me in anticipation. 

She swallowed and said, “I understand now. Why you stayed away.”

“I doubt that.” 

“That’s fair,” she accepted, looking me over with those youthful eyes. I told myself I was glad Elain wasn’t here. I would not be able to handle both my younger sisters and their searching gazes. I hadn’t done anything to deserve the way they looked to me for guidance. Feyre had supported us. Elain had even been braver than I had was and offered herself up to the Cauldron. 

Only when the door closed did I realize I had lost my opportunity to quietly slip away from Cassian’s seeking eyes. I sucked in my courage and met his eyes finally. Even though I could melt his flesh from his bones with as much effort spent as breathing, his eyes were hot enough to threaten me in the same way. His lips were pressed thin. I suspected if he had been wearing his siphons, or any clothes for that matter, they would glow like coals. “Why did you keep that from me?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Dammit Nesta, I thought we were past playing games.” 

“It wasn’t something I wanted to share. Not with anyone.”  _ Even you.  _

“You’ve been seeing Hybern in your sleep and you thought to keep that to yourself?” my head shot up, caught in shock. His eyes glimmered, satisfied he had confirmed his theory with my reaction. “The others might not have realized the implications just yet but they will come morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhysand breaks down that door in the next hour.” 

My eyes widened. “How did you know?” 

He huffed. “You speak in your sleep. You said his name more times then I could ignore.” 

“You didn’t say  _ anything, _ ” I hissed, rising to my feet with my fists clenched. He took in the motion with a measured sweep over my body. That only incensed me more. My nostrils flared until all I could smell was the licorice of the drush root and heavy cedarwood. “You accuse  _ me  _ of playing games and in the next breath you’re dealing out the cards yourself,” I admitted that my anger felt good inside me. It offered me more warmth than my fear did. 

“I thought you were having nightmares. If I mentioned it, you would have locked yourself away,” he bit back, teeth bared. Somewhere in my mind I knew the motion and effort wasn’t good for him; that how his back muscles tensed was hurting him immensely. I knew I should have said something but I was a second rate healer anyway. “Besides, you think I enjoyed being just a pace away from you and still  _ just  _ as helpless?”

I released a laugh cold enough to freeze even Cassian. “You don’t have to worry for me anymore. I’m not helpless anymore.” My magic bucked violently in the base of my spine just to prove how  _ not helpless  _ I was. I froze where I was, not willing to near him anymore in case any of it got out. I’d self-destruct at a safe distance. 

“I don’t recall a time I’d ever described you as helpless,” he retorted. “Now it’s just easier for the rest of the world to see too,” his eyes focused on something far off. They squeezed shut and he shook his head, a rueful smile forming on his lips. “I just thought you’d tell me why you were suppressing your magic so violently at one point.” 

I straightened. “And why would I tell you?” 

His eyes met mine and he smiled bitterly. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend again that you don’t care about me. We are beyond that shit, Nesta.” 

I raised my chin imperiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He laughed without any humor, the sound loud and echoing off the walls. “You’re much too transparent Nesta. You didn’t stay at my bedside for days because you hate me. You didn’t ask for books on  _ Illyrian physiology  _ and  _ Illyrian healing  _ because you hate me. You don’t sleep halfway across the room from me when you sleep because you hate me,” his ears flicked when I swallowed. “You think I don’t notice every time your magic rises you run to the other side of the room like you could limit your magic to yourself? Nesta, if you released your magic there wouldn’t be a person on the face of the earth that wouldn’t feel it. Yet you keep across the room from me anyway...because you hate me,” he finished, cocking his head. Some hairs sticking to his sweat-coated forehead. “When will you get it through that thick skull of yours I don’t care about your magic?” 

“If a small amount got out, I could do a lot more than break your bones, Cassian,” I stepped closer, intending on threatening him if I had to. A piece of my mind screamed at me to stop moving and to take as many steps back as it took for him to be safe from my magic, from me. 

He shrugged but the movement was stifled. “I’m already in the worst pain imaginable, do your worst,” he smiled triumphantly like he won a prize with the admission. “Besides, you’ve already proven you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

I stepped closer, circling where his right wing laid out. My eyes never left him. The loser was the first to blink. “I could do worse. I could kill people without moving, breathing.” My magic announced itself with orange sparks in the air around me, blinking out of existence as they fell. 

He watched my magic dance and then back to me, studying me with those all-seeing eyes. Too intense for their own good. “No one who wouldn’t deserve it,” he replied evenly. “Who would miss them? Who would care?” 

“I wouldn’t spare a single soldier from Hybern’s army. They’d all just die.” I needed to scare him. If I couldn’t push him away then, I’d never be able to. He needed to see what was inside me and he needed to run from it if he had any self-preservation left in that beautiful body. 

“They don’t deserve to live and breathe anymore then they already have,” Cassian’s voice lowered notably, eyes darkening. But he smiled anyway at me, grinning as I neared him. I hadn’t counted on Cassian’s response. I had been sure he would support the honorable path: that anyone is redeemable. I couldn’t say I didn’t like the black and white of his mind. 

That cocky smile needled at me, urging me forward. I raised a hand to where the arc of his wing rested. “My magic wouldn’t spare your wings.”

That smile fell away until all that was left was the molten gaze in his eyes. The warmth of his magic drawing me nearer and nearer even as my own magic had risen to consume me. He looked to where my hand ghosted over the flesh of his wings, swallowing. “I trust you.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” 

He smiled. “You know I am full of them.” 

I breathed in deeply, knowing I had failed at every turn. I had tried and Cassian had dodged every attempt.  _ Stubborn bastard _ , I thought but there was nothing left in me but appreciation for him and my magic. My hand fell from his wing and back to my side, all power fading from my fingertips. He raised a hand from the bed, beckoning me closer and I damned myself with every step I took towards him. 

When I let my gloved hand touch his, he seized the hand and tugged me forward. He wasn’t gentle. He knew nothing he could do would ever break me in the face of my power. In the time he had been my patient, I had forgotten the strength he kept under lock and key. A few rushed steps and I sat ungracefully on his bedside. With his other hand, he cupped my cheek. His thumb swept over the pane of my cheek, leaving behind a trail of warmth that seeped into me. He knew me too well. If his other hand had let go of my left, there was the possibility I’d step away and recede back into my corner of the room. He wasn’t taking any chances. 

His eyes met mine. Seeing whatever affirmation in them he needed, he brought my lips to his and swallowed all my remaining freewill with his kiss. 


	100. Bare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated this chapter. The next chapter got started but my eyes are bleeding, so please be patient with me :)
> 
> Also, chapter 100? How. I don't think I saw this coming when I started this fic. Someone take away my keyboard. But the only reason this fic exists is because of my faithful readers and reviewers. I really cannot say this would have happened and continued without their encouragement. Thank you guys for helping this writer along. :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

I didn’t mind when my fingers were coated with dirt. Mud underneath my fingernails had a special piece of my heart. I was satisfied when I pulled twigs and leaves from my hair after a long day in the garden. I resisted sinking into the bath immediately after, much to the chagrin of Nesta and the servants. For as long as I could, I kept the proof of my efforts proudly displayed. 

The same could be said for the products of Lucien and I sleeping together. I didn’t care that my stomach was stuck to his side by mixtures of our sweat and fluids. It was a new and delicious intimacy I savored. 

Luckily for me, Lucien didn’t care either. His hand stroked my naked back and threatened to stir me _again_. It never subsided in either of us, like waves in the ocean there was always another crest that followed. We never tired. Sleep was irrelevant when we could be with each other and in the moments of brief rest in between, I found myself in wonder of this new sensation.

It wasn’t that arousal was foreign to me. But to call this full-body sensation arousal was an insult at the very least. Admittedly, I had engaged in some _heavy petting_ with Graysen. It never went beyond the outermost layers of my dress and never threatened to blind me either. Each time, there had always been so many concerns in the back of my mind. 

_What if we were caught? What would happen?_

_Would Graysen view me differently?_

_Would he still love me?_

In the face of all those doubts, I resisted any further intimacy and let all my fears shackle me. Laying in bed with Lucien, I realized exactly what had been wrong in those moments. I had been living a lie with Graysen. My youngest sister had to die for me to live it. The poverty of my adolescence didn’t exist. My selfish behaviors were celebrated. I hadn’t felt comfortable shedding my clothes because I hadn’t even been allowed to shed my facade. 

It felt wrong to shed my clothes when I would still be cloaked in lies. 

Thinking of Graysen created a pang in my heart. I hadn’t wanted to think of him and _yet._

Sensing my discomfort, Lucien’s hand pressed against my shoulder blade. “What troubles you?” he asked softly, tearing his eyes away from the sunlight that patterned the walls to look at me.

I played with the scar on his chest with my index finger. “Sad thoughts,” I replied, not quite understanding why I halted my real response. It was Lucien, who had been with me since the beginning of this trauma. His scars were physical reminders that he knew what ugliness the world had and how some of it lived inside me. “I was thinking of Graysen. How wrong it had been with him.” Lucien stayed carefully quiet but I felt his heart thud in my ear. “But thinking ill of the dead feels wrong, especially when I’m happy.” 

There it was. I was. _Happy,_ that is. I was happier in the middle of a war that had robbed my family of so much than I had been in my entire life. I was happy even though so many had died and that made me feel awful. 

Lucien took in a deep breath. I could feel his mixture of mirth and understanding through the bond. He gently touched my side, squeezing just enough to tickle, to prompt me onto my back. My head sank into one of the feather pillows. He settled his lower torso between my legs and I wondered when it became natural for him to be there. It must have snuck up on me. 

Our bond certainly made it easier. It was the only guarantee in my life of constant upheaval. It made me want to squeeze my legs together like I could keep him close to me. 

He hovered above me, hair catching the afternoon sunlight. I struggled to focus both on his words and the copper strands. The devious glint in his eyes and the sneaking grin on his full lips drew my attention back to my mate. “Are you asking me to make your life miserable?” 

“I was serious,” I pouted, though I was thankful my mate kept his humor close. 

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I am as well,” he whispered into my ear, voice sincere. “If you continue to punish yourself for all the misery in this world, you’ll have to explain to me why that isn’t the same as asking me to do it for you,” he reasoned, laying his chin at the center of my chest. Lucien’s eyes left me to stare towards the windows looking over the valley. They hardened until they resembled superheated steel, orange and red. “Graysen was many things but I don’t think he would have wished you misery.” 

It was the first time I think I heard Lucien speak Graysen’s name. The name on Lucien’s tongue lost all the color it used to hold for me. He knew how much I had loved Graysen. He watched me demand my sister risk her life for him because I loved Graysen so much. Even when Graysen broke my heart, Lucien had cared for me through that heartbreak. 

“Even if he did, does it serve you to be unhappy? Do you deserve to be unhappy?” he asked, eyes coming back to me. His metallic eye swirled, gears shifting until it could unpiece every reaction I showed. In so many words, Lucien had arrived at the heart of my problems. _Why should I be happy with my mate? Why did I get a future? Why did I come out of that Cauldron when everyone else died?_

“I don’t know,” I whispered, voice choked. At least the tears welling in my eyes made me feel maliciously good, like I deserved the way they made my eyes sting. 

His brows furrowed together, lips firming. His hand cupped my cheek, thumbs brushing my tears away from where they welled. The heat of them steadied me. “There are a thousand reasons you are here, Elain, and I don’t need to know them. I am just glad you are here,” he told me. “I didn’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come from the Cauldron. I don’t think I would have been far behind you if that had been the case,” his voice was raw in his admittance. It had all the shame Lucien contained inside him mixed with the resolve of a male committed to their fate. “In that endeavor, I know that at the very least I am here to protect you…” 

I thought back to the last time we had this conversation and how different that night might have turned out had Hybern not ambushed the camp. I’d likely still be human. Lucien never would have known I was his mate. 

I brushed my thumb over those soft lips of his, pressing into the flesh and replacing my thumb with my own lips. His hair slid over my fingers like silk sheets; I knew he enjoyed it when I tugged lightly. “Then perhaps the Cauldron brought me back to protect you,” I spoke against his lips, enjoying how his laugh ghosted over my skin. 

“My fearsome mate,” he agreed, kissing me back just as fiercely. The room was heady with our scents again. Sweet fig and pear coated with cinnamon was simultaneously sedating me and breathing new life inside me. A moan escaped me when his member rubbed between my lips, reminding us of it’s presence. I was slick again, no hesitation or resistance from my body. It knew where it’s home was and Lucien eagerly reciprocated. 

Without another thought, he filled me again and we rocked our bodies together in slow motion. I was content to let the moment carry on forever with our lips locked and bodies moving together. Lucien braced an arm above my shoulder, bowing his head right next to my ear. His other hand finding my waist or my thigh to brace himself. I didn’t realize how much I liked how he grabbed at me. It wasn’t painful or pulling at my skin, instead like he was attempting to hold and feel my entire body through one touch. I knew the feeling. My hands skimmed over his arms and back and if someone gave me clay, I was positive I could make an honest attempt at his body. 

I thought I had heard every sweet moan from Lucien’s lips. It was when he cursed, _fuck_ , sighing deeply that I felt devious pleasure. Knowing in someway I elicited that response and drove him half mad with sensation. I had barely just finished my own climax before heat began anew inside me. His heavy breathing in my ear was coating each one of my tightly wound nerves in painful want. “I thought you’d get sick of me by now,” he smiled, pressing a wet kiss to my ear. 

I had been about to respond but his movements down the bed paused me, my brows coming together in question. He took the blankets with him and my flush made it’s way to my breasts. Gooseflesh spread over my skin from the air. If my legs weren’t firmly spread by his body, I would have pressed them together because he was staring at my core without any hesitation. Like it was a gift. Embarrassment was worming it’s way into my mind the longer he looked. I bit my cheek to keep a silly smile from forming. I could feel the wetness dripping from me, _his_ fluids. But none of the ugliness from anxiety followed my embarrassment; only the flustered feeling that Lucien saw me in the full light of day and grinned. 

To my unending shock, he lowered his mouth to the apex of my slit and licked. My cry of alarm quickly bled into a cry of sheer pleasure. My hips sought to escape him and whatever sinful sensation he had caused. One hand laid on my soft stomach and pressed me flat, the other hand holding the tender flesh of my inner thigh spread open. My cheeks must have been crimson. Heat rolled over my body in undulating waves in time to the stroke of his tongue. His eyes looked up at me from where he lapped, the corners of his eyes crinkling in uncontained joy. I didn’t know which noise I protested more: the sounds coming from his mouth on my core or the sounds I made with my own mouth. He continued to work my nerves into a frenzy until blinding light left me dizzy, crying out his name and panting from the experience. 

With my hands still fisted in the pillow to keep me grounded, I glanced down at Lucien. His keen eyes were nothing compared to the knowing grin that filled his face. “Yes?” he asked, but the way he spoke told me he wasn’t really asking a question at all.

I opened my mouth to formulate a question but I didn’t have one. I had many. 

They were all interrupted by a loud knock coming from the door to my apartment. Lucien’s scowl overshadowed any disappointment on my part at being interrupted. He lifted his head, no doubt listening to the waiting visitor. All I could hear was the pounding of my heartbeat. Hearing something that called him away, he turned back to me with a sigh. “Stay here, I’ll take your question after,” he smiled, rising over me to kiss my forehead. 

It was only fair he bore himself to me. 

So when he rose from the bed, I held onto the blanket. He shot me a disbelieving glance that made giggles rise from my stomach but I held firm. He didn’t look the least embarrassed and the reason why was made very apparent. With only the barest of flushes, he rose naked from the bed and pulled on his pants, forgoing underwear in the face of timeliness. I could see the evidence of our activities on his skin as red markings from my nails, fingers and lips. He wasn’t the slightest bit bashful. _I_ was redder than his hair. 

He pulled on his tan tunic which was still wrinkled from being tossed on the floor the prior night. Though he was dressed, he wouldn’t fool a single fae in the world that he had always been that way. But with another kiss to my head, he exited the room to answer the door in the next bedroom over. 

I rose from the bed, sitting up with the blankets clutched to my chest. I had spent so much time horizontal with Lucien that my head felt incredibly light. Even my magic never made me feel so dizzy. I was working on getting my ears to follow directions when he already closed the door, returning to find me sitting on the edge of the bed. He stayed at the door, eyes trailing up and over me. Starting where my bare foot poked out from the duvet to my tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips. He smiled dreamily but shook himself from my distraction, “We have to get dressed,” he said, walking slowly towards me. 

“We do?” I asked, disappointed. But I eyed his slow prowl towards the bed. 

He nodded. “Apparently the High Lord himself has winnowed from the war front to welcome us,” he didn’t sound the least bit happy about that but his eyes were unfocused. They glazed over, taking me in. Clutching the blanket to my chest didn’t take away from the sensation of being bare before him. 

“Oh,” my mate’s emotions were betraying him and his motives. His sense of duty was gone the moment he returned to our bedroom and saw me sitting on the edge of the bed. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting,” I whispered. 

“I don’t think I particularly care to rush,” he shrugged. 

“We can take our time,” I agreed. 

He took the blanket from me in one sharp jerk but I hadn’t been holding it tight at all. He barely had to press a hand to my knees before I was spreading them. He fell to his knees on the floor besides the bed, hooking his own hands under my knees to pull me towards the edge. “You had a question, I recall,” he said, eyes focused once more on my body. The wreckage he had left in my mind was only just passing and yet I was ready for another. 

“Yes,” I nodded, my tongue going dry. I wetted my lips and he followed my tongue’s motion just as hungrily. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

He smiled, his eyes lowering again to the junction of my thighs. His gaze was half-lidded so I could only see his lashes fanning his cheeks. “Would you like me to explain or show you?” he asked. I didn’t have a non-incriminating reply. Instead of waiting for a response, he lowered his head back between my thighs and let me find my own answer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two servants led us down the hall, dressed in deep brown robes that, in my opinion, were much more conservative then the ones we had been given. 

We were led past hallways and hallways of art. Not only paintings hung on the walls but stained glass that the sunlight danced through. In the light of the late afternoon sun, the hallways were encased in soft golden rays. It was the exact weather that made me long for my garden and to spend the day earning more freckles. Glimpses through the skylights above us told me there wasn’t a cloud in the deep blue sky. 

I was struck by how quiet it was. The only sound was the pad of our bare feet on the marble floors. Even with my fae hearing, I could only pick up on the barest of chatter. Lucien told me that in the Day Court, walking with shoes inside of your host was an insult, and we had left ours back at our apartment. It had something to do with not trusting the host. I wanted to point out Lucien had his sword strapped to his hip and yet his footwear was a sign of distrust but something told me the fae were accustomed to these paradoxes. 

We were led onto a patio that looked over a lush green valley. I fell in love with the shade of green almost instantly. In tiers that started just below the deck was an alternating pattern of gardens, fields and private seating areas that extended beyond my eyesight. Glass greenhouses were scattered about with colorful windows of blue and yellow hues. Lucien had mentioned his excitement over the libraries yet I hadn’t seen a single one so far. I couldn’t say I was entirely disappointed that we were met with gardens instead. 

My focus on the landscape had made me ignorant to the High Lord standing nearly right in front of us. But with Lucien next to me, I hardly cared; I was safe by his side. It wasn’t until he spoke that I was struck by how deep and melodic his voice was. “So what does High Lord Rhysand need today? And why, does he need to do it thousands of leagues from the war front?” he asked, dragging a finger around the rim of his cup. He wore only the white skirt that ended above his knees and had a white cloth draped over his shoulder. A golden crown sat on his head with matching golden cuffs at his wrists, bicep and neck. All of it was offset by dark skin that seemed to glimmer when it caught the sunlight. 

He fixed his eyes on Lucien, studying my mate with critical intent. They were matched in height, eyes level with one another. Helion glanced once, twice at me and then swapped his focus to me staring at me discerningly. “You are Lady Feyre and Lady Nesta’s sister.” 

Lucien tensed at my side, not enjoying the bold way Helion regarded me with his finger pointed. I think Helion knew that but his knowing smile could have been from anything. “Elain,” I replied. I was about to add a title or honor but thought twice. I didn’t know the etiquette of the fae and while that remained obscure to me, I didn’t think it was appropriate. _After all_ , I thought, _he isn’t my High Lord._ But then again, I never said Rhysand was either and I didn’t know what position Lucien held in Rhysand’s court. As far as I was concerned, Rhysand was my brother-in-law. _Did it count if fae were mates and not married?_ I didn’t think I’d be calling him that anytime soon. It was hard to call a fae of unknown age and experience something as simple as _brother._

Though I had no problem calling Lucien my mate. 

The moment extended on and Helion’s brilliantly gold eyes flashed with understanding, all previous mirth falling from the High Lord’s face. “You were Made by the Cauldron.” It wasn’t a question so I didn’t nod or show any confirmation. It was a fact and I wasn’t going to deny it or hide it. “Hybern took you and...Nesta...when he ambushed the refugee camp when he kidnapped Lucien,” he pieced together. Lucien was impossibly rigid at my side. I couldn’t tell if the strain he felt was for Helion’s rather invasive train of thought or for the memories Helion was dredging up. Lucien’s healing back still showed trace evidence of what he had endured but his tunic mostly covered it. 

“Precisely why we are here. I’d like to access your libraries for research,” Lucien drawled, bringing the conversation and Helion’s gaze away from me. Like Lucien, Helion had a rather studious gaze that took in details and catalogued them for later. Though I wasn’t fooled by Lucien’s casual tone and that made me question the High Lord’s persona as well, if he was truly as carefree as he acted. 

Helion raised a brow, flicking his eyes back to me. He squinted at me for a moment. Lucien’s arm tensed again. _He might try to kill this High Lord if Helion breathes again in my direction._ But Helion remained relaxed, choosing to recline in a wooden chair, crossing one ankle over the other knee. “And what information do you need my libraries for? Rhysand might not have as many as the Day Court but the male isn’t an illiterate,” he drawled.

“That’s private,” Lucien replied evenly. 

Helion tipped back his head and laughed so loud it reverberated off the marble walls and floors. “You come into my home, demand to use my resources and then refuse to tell me why?” While Helion was speaking, I felt like I was being tickled. At least my mind. My magic was sitting at rest inside me and like a cat that's been disturbed from a nap, it raised it’s head. I struggled to keep my hands at my side, to not fidget and maintain the placid smile on my face. Neither Helion or Lucien spared me a glance, both invested in wrankling the other. “I know Rhysand taught you those manners.” 

They began to bicker back and forth. I felt Lucien’s magic, usually so close to mine, rise. I was distracted from the conversation until I was lost in my head. The tickling sensation transformed into a needling feeling, like a kid poking it’s finger at me to get my attention. I attempted to ignore it as best I could but with my magic beginning to shift it’s ugly weight inside me, it was a battle I was slowly losing. The further Lucien’s magic got to the surface, the more my own power began to rise inside me. The prodding feeling only encouraged it more, guiding it and I had no idea how to keep it inside me. Nesta made controlling her magic’s desire seem pathetically easy. 

Finally, my magic spilled out just a little and I heard a _snap_ echo in the room. Lucien’s magic came rushing back and my own power heeded his, settling back down inside me to rest again. I felt out of breath and I hadn’t moved a muscle in the last five minutes. 

“You’re a Seer,” Helion’s attention switched back to me instantly, like it had never left. His face was filled with excitement and a satisfied joy and I knew he had been behind getting a rise out of my magic. It made sense. The High Lord of the Day Court would know how to recognize a Seer. 

Lucien took one moment to take me in before he launched himself at Helion. The rage and insult I felt from Lucien over the bond was all-consuming and primal. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled. Faster than I could follow, Lucien brought his sword in a downward arc and out of thin air, Helion produced a golden spear. Their weapons met with a _clang_ and locked together. Helion had both his arms raised, holding either end of his spear to block Lucien’s attack. Though neither of their weapons moved, I could see the tension in Lucien’s exposed arms and side. 

“ _And_ she’s your mate,” Helion stated, his smile was wide and broad. His face was a hand’s breadth from Lucien’s snarl and was too comfortable that way. “You should know it’s rude to keep secrets from your host. Now come, I won’t hurt your mate,” he chastised. He was far too heedless of the anger he provoked. Lucien sized Helion up for a moment and Helion only smiled in response. 

Even though Lucien pulled away from Helion and sheathed his sword, he didn’t return to my side. Almost blocking me entirely from Helion’s view, keeping his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Do you really think _you_ should be lecturing _me_ on secrets?” he asked. His voice had an edge I rarely heard. When we had first come to the war camp and he spoke to Rhysand, his voice was just as sharp. 

Helion’s lazy smile didn’t falter but I could see the hard glean in his eyes. “Careful, that almost sounded like an accusation.” Lucien had confided his suspicions to me earlier when we were in bed and it felt too serendipitous. That by fate or chance, we end up back in the Day Court where Lucien’s origins began. 

“It sounded like an accusation?” Lucien laughed. If Lucien’s instincts commanded him to attack Helion, mine urged me to go to my mate’s side. I slipped my arm into Lucien’s tightly anchoring him to me and to dissuade him from attacking further. I had felt the pain echo through the bond when he lunged before. His back wasn’t completely healed. “I apologize. Let me clarify. You slept with the Lady of the Autumn Court, got her pregnant and then abandoned both mother and child like a coward.” 

Helion’s smile finally fell. He muttered some curses, shaking his head. “Sit,” he commanded, motioning to the empty chairs at the table. He took his own seat but not before he refilled his own cup with wine. Neither of us moved, only because I remained fixed where I stood. Helion eyed us, raising an unamused brow.

“Promise you won’t prod my magic,” I stared Helion down, channeling all as much of Nesta’s attitude as I dared with the High Lord. 

He huffed a laugh, smiling and shaking his head. His golden crown caught and reflected the sunlight. “I promise, Elain. Now, please take a seat and serve yourself some wine. I can tell you will need it.” Lucien pulled out my chair, furthest from Helion and then served me and himself some wine. He fell into his own seat and looked to Helion to begin. “Yes, the Lady Juliette of the Autumn Court and I had an affair. Yes, you’re the product and my son,” he spoke slowly, like the words tasted new to him. “But you’re wrong. I did not end the affair. Lady Juliette did once she found out she was pregnant with you.”

“Bullshit,” Lucien replied, glaring daggers at Helion. 

“Believe it or not, it’s true. The Lady had a strange sense of duty to that useless bastard,” Helion’s teeth gritted, his eyes looking out over the sprawling gardens with dissatisfaction. “But I did not _abandon_ you or Lady Juliette. I’m not afraid of that sniveling male she married and I would have started another war if it came to it. I guess that's exactly what she was afraid of considering that _thing_ never would have let the insult slide.” 

“No, I don’t suppose he ever let it _slide_ ,” Lucien ground out, eyes burning holes in Helion. Helion’s jaw tightened, taking in the scar on Lucien’s left eye. “And the ward? Was that your or her idea?” 

The ward Lucien had broken when he pulled me from my visions. His magic had acted like a beacon to me. Even when I was lost in them, Lucien could pull me back. My visions were confusing and attacked all my senses mercilessly. Eons passed before my eyes and I grew disoriented, attempting to find my way out of a maze of neverending moments in time. I had stopped struggling against them and simply chose to live in each vision for as long as they came. 

When Lucien came near, he was a light in the dark woods that let me find my way back. Ever since he had broken Helion’s ward, his magic easily guided mine. Mine hadn’t risen until his left it’s side. 

Helion squinted at Lucien again, like he had with me, and came back surprised. He smiled. “Of course you would have broken it,” he said to himself, staring at the forgotten wine glass in his hand. “Your mother wanted me to place the ward on you. She was afraid you’d be born and look like me and Beron would kill you.” Helion watched Lucien carefully. “She made a lot of sacrifices so you could live. If you’re going to be mad then direct it towards me.” 

“Are you going to allow me access to your libraries?” Lucien asked, ignoring Helion’s request entirely. 

“No,” Helion shook his head. “But whatever you learn of Seers while you are here remains with this Court. As does Elain.” Lucien’s eyes widened, I took his hand in comfort. I loved the Day Court’s gardens but Nesta and Feyre were in the Night Court. They were my home just as much as Lucien was. “Until you can control your Seer ability, leaving the Day Court would be unwise. Unless you have another untouchable hideaway at your disposal. The last Seer, Cassius, died during the War and it was because the High Lords thought they could use the visions.” 

“Use the visions?” Lucien asked, glancing at me. “Rhysand couldn’t even access her mind. How could any fae use them?” 

“Cassius shared the contents of their visions with the High Lords. Only Seers can act on their visions,” Helion shook his head, thinking back. If Helion was Lucien’s father, then that made him old enough to have known this Cassius. “His magic turned on him,” Helion’s eyes met mine, gleaming bright and hard like gold. His face was hard. “What you see is to never be shared. You alone can act on it.”

“But what if I make the wrong choice?” 

Helion considered me, a small smile forming before vanishing entirely. “Even though you are a Seer, as you have likely noticed, the future is constantly changing. You are not all powerful enough to control the outcome.” I nodded though I felt no more confident. Helion huffed a laugh. “Fate seems to be mocking us. Five hundred years later and another Seer is made.” 

“But if the last Seer died, why would the High Lords have any use for a Seer?” I asked, Lucien stiffened next to me. His hand on mine squeezed. 

“The High Lords know that Seer visions can’t be shared. But tell a High Lord _no_ when their power is in danger, or their child, or their mate…” he trailed off. “Us High Lords are accustomed to magic doing our bidding that we don’t understand when it doesn’t do exactly as commanded. You and Lucien will stay here until you can control your visions...for as long as it takes.” He rose from the table, resummoning his golden spear to his side. “I will need to return to the war camp. I will send in servants with the books you ask for.” 

“Will you be coming back?” Lucien asked. 

Helion paused on his way towards the door. “Of course. This is my home.” He winnowed out of sight with the next step. After he was gone, several servants came through the door with a cloth-bound stack in their arms. 

“You may not mark any of these tomes. At the end of the day, we will collect them again. If you transcribe notes, those notes will remain in the Day Court after you leave,” the servant told us before sitting the stacks on the table before us. Another servant deposited a tray containing inkwells, quills and looseleaf paper. 

Lucien’s eyes widened at the stacks of books before him. “Are these all?” 

The servant raised a brow. “There is more. But the High Lord has selected these for you to access. Should you wish to access more, you may request it by High Lord Helion,” the servant replied with a pointed nod of their head, and they were all gone. At least three stacks, each containing near six books, were sitting imposingly on the table. 

I smiled and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Lucien’s temple. “Don’t look so nervous.”


	101. Restrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 POVs in 1 chapter!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

The day before I was to meet with the Human Queens was plagued by several very awkward interactions. 

It began at breakfast.

Mor, Azriel, Rhysand, Amren, Nesta, Cassian and I all ate in Cassian’s room as our patient couldn’t make it three flights of stairs to the table. Cassian’s back had finally stopped making me wince on sight and apparently that meant he was ready to begin regaining some movement. They’d have to start slow. Illyrians used their wings for balance instinctually and with Cassian’s right wing still in a precarious state, he’d have to learn to live without them for the time being. 

For the time being, I dared say Cassian didn’t mind being bedridden, not with Nesta’s attention. Even though he had made it abundantly clear he would be rejoining the war front once he was able to walk. 

I found his enthusiasm for Nesta, as a healer,odd. I’d only asked Nesta to help me bandage a particularly nasty cut, from falling out of a tree, years before and the experience had ensured I’d never ask again. Nesta had an indelicate touch but it made me smile to think she was learning that skill with Cassian. 

I hadn’t mentioned their precarious relationship but I wanted to. I direly wanted to share silly and giddy feelings with my eldest sister; I would have to wait patiently for that day. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had made breakfast since Elain wasn’t present to attempt herself. Apparently, this was a relief to Azriel and Nesta though I could tell both of them noted the absence of my middle sister. The Night Court’s food was usually a stew or a curry and Nuala made flatbreads that were heavily laden with garlic and butter. Breakfast was no exception and she had mixed a spiced cheese in the one I ate eagerly. All their dishes were cooked in clay pots or on cast iron griddles over the fire so the entire house smelled like the food. I ate almost three servings myself. 

Weeks of eating a war camp’s diet of boiled grains and the occasional dried fruit had made me especially appreciative when we could eat at home. Rhysand, however, made his food nearly inedible by adding a spicy chopped pepper that burned my tongue. Whatever entered his mouth had to be properly layered with the pepper to be tasted; the one time he had offered it for me to try, I regretted the experience for days following. I was beginning to think that was an Illyrian trait as Cassian and Azriel did the same with their food. 

“Tonight we are meeting with High Lord Tarquin,” I reminded Rhysand when he asked if I would be training with him again. We recently decided it would be beneficial to work in training my magic at night when we both wouldn’t be missed. His eyes drooped a little. Normally, our trainings ended in more pleasurable activities; a diplomatic meeting rarely, if ever, instilled the same desires afterwards. 

“Don’t look so enthusiastic, Rhysand, your smile is blinding,” Amren said tonelessly, sipping from a metal cup. She reclined in a chair that was several sizes too large for her and yet she filled it entirely. She was always dressed in shades of grey but only wore stones of red. I’d have to ask her what those colors meant to her. 

“I bet Tarquin shares my enthusiasm,” Rhysand quipped, eyes flat. 

“If Tarquin hated you, he wouldn’t have supported me in my plan for the Human Queens,” I pointed out. When I had to tell Rhysand about the plan I had concocted and carried out without asking him, I had expected some amount of ‘ _ you should have told me’.  _ What I received was a tight hug that squeezed the air from my lungs and a kiss to my forehead. “Morrigan, you spoke with Tarquin,” Morrigan started a little at the question, shooting me a peculiar look. 

Giving me an apologetic smile, Morrigan said, “Tarquin  _ might  _ hate Rhysand.” My head fell.  _ We’re so fucked _ . 

Cassian snorted loudly. “Fucking Summer fae,” he commented, chewing on a flatbread. “They know how to hold their grudges.” 

Morrigan shot a glare at Cassian. “You wrecked one of their oldest buildings.” Nesta’s head swung to stare accusingly at Cassian but he remained unaffected, smiling slightly to himself over it like a private joke. His hair was tied back in it’s signature bun and I knew Nesta had something to do with it. 

“To help them, not for fun,” Cassian said like there was ever a time to demolish a building for  _ fun _ . Nesta continued to glare. 

“Either way, these dinners are here to stay. Unfortunately, Kallias has lived up to his reputation and effectively iced me out,” I wrinkled my nose, remembering the offense he had taken. 

“Vivianne says he’ll come around,” Morrigan shrugged, winking deviously at me. 

“Unbelievable, Kallias’s mate conspiring to control him,” Rhysand said, shaking his head but he smiled anyway. 

Various eyes around the room took turns watching my reaction but I kept my face amused. Inside, I was howling.  _ Admit you like being controlled,  _ I taunted through the mental link. Rhysand was very willing to let me guide our intimacy and he was always eager to please; however, I enjoyed being subject to his desires just as much. 

_ Yes but our inner circle doesn’t need to know all the fine details,  _ Rhysand replied, smiling at his breakfast. Staring at him, relaxed on a couch with me and enjoying a simple meal felt easy. Natural. Our friends and family surrounding us, engaging in friendly banter and eating good food. I could have wished that Elain and Lucien were here, or that Cassian and Azriel hadn’t been hurt. But at the moment, I appeased myself with that they were safe and here. 

I told myself Elain and Lucien were safe too, wherever they were. Rhysand had explained my instincts would give me issues and they were becoming an annoyance. I needed to  _ find  _ them and hug them to know they were safe. Only at that moment would I feel truly at peace. After that, I would strangle them both and impart on them the importance of not worrying me so much. 

“I may not be privy to whatever conversation you are having but I shouldn’t have to suffer those lovestruck expressions either,” Amren’s voice cut into our conversation. 

I opened my mouth to retort but a knock at the door silenced my words. Nuala entered and behind her was Alis. Followed by Bron. Both of them looked painfully uncomfortable to be standing in the townhouse. Alis barely looked up to glance into the room. I didn’t know if I preferred Alis’s reaction in the face of Bron’s which was outright hatred. Bron glared at everyone in the room like they’d spat on his shoe. When I was with the inner circle, it was easy to forget what the rest of the world thought of the Night Court.

Bron and Alis were a stark reminder of how different I had become since coming to the Night Court. It would have been easy to fall into old habits and feel shame or embarrassment but I couldn’t. I was too proud of the family and home I had found and made. “Thank you Nuala,” I smiled, rising to meet with Bron and Alis. Hart’s absence was obvious to me. Bron and Hart would stand side by side. Alis would have stood to my right while my fae guards trailed behind. It could have been so different but I wouldn’t trade my present ever. 

The moment they stepped into the room, Azriel crossed to where Cassian laid on the bed to stand next to him. Neither Bron or Alis even glanced in their direction but I didn’t blame Azriel’s raised suspicions. Both my friends had dressed themselves in a Seasonal Court style and that fact wasn’t lost on my family. 

“Lord Lucien didn’t return last night,” Alis spoke first. I would have been surprised if Bron had managed to separate his jaws long enough to speak, the way they ground together. “Is he alright?” 

I smiled and huffed a laugh.  _ My troublesome family.  _ “Lucien performed a vanishing act on us last night. I’ll let you know once I hear from him,” Alis nodded her head stiffly, eyes still maintaining a steady gaze at the floor. I knew their reactions were from the company but it stung a little anyway. 

“If you grind your teeth anymore, you won’t have any left,” once again, Amren had decided to grace the room with that sharp tongue of hers. She smiled and reclined in her seat, taking obvious enjoyment from the added tension in Bron’s throat. 

“Oh here we go,” Morrigan blew out, staring at the ceiling in obvious pain. I didn’t think anyone in the room had a pulse or dared to breathe. 

“And you won’t have a nose if you keep sticking it in everyone else’s business,” Alis shot back, glaring at Amren. I could see the exact moment Alis took in who she was speaking to: the unnaturally still being without a pulse or need to breathe. The fae female who was anything but a fae female. But to Alis’s credit, she only stiffened her lip and continued to glare Amren down, which was fairly characteristic of the sassy urisk I knew. 

Amren tipped her head back and laughed. “And what do you do in Velaris?” she asked, assessing Alis and Bron. Her reaction had caught them off guard and Bron regarded Amren warily. Alis opened her mouth but Amren cut her off, “Excellent. You’ll come work for me.” 

“Now wait-” Bron began. 

“Oh not to worry. You as well,” Amren’s voice offered no opportunity for rejection. Alis and Bron were so startled, as were the rest of us in the room, that they let Nuala show them out without complaint. 

“You know, you might not be fae but you can’t adopt us like pets,” Rhysand said when the door had closed. 

Amren shrugged. “They were in need of adopting,” she replied. 

Rhysand rose to his feet. “Try not to live up to the Night Court reputation too well, Amren. We need to return to the war camp. The Human Queen’s meeting tomorrow is bound to make the High Lords  _ yearn  _ for a meeting,” he rolled his eyes. 

“I should return with you both,” Azriel said in the quiet room. 

“You’re not nearly healed enough,” Rhysand easily replied, looking to Azriel. 

“Bullshit,” Azriel replied. 

“Az,” Morrigan frowned. 

“My scar is gone. I’m healed enough.” 

“Take a couple more days-”  
“Feyre needs to winnow to the Human Queens.” 

“I  _ can  _ winnow,” I replied defensively. 

Azriel glanced at me pleadingly. “You’d need to winnow to the continent. Rhysand can’t go with you.” 

“I was going to go with Feyre,” Morrigan supplied. “You should remain here.” He shot her a glare. “Don’t give me that look. You almost died a week ago. Someone needs to remain reasonable.” 

“If Azriel goes, then I should,” Cassian added. 

“How does that make sense?” Nesta spat out, glaring at him. 

“That is different and you know it Cass,” Azriel hissed back, glaring at Cassian’s exposed back. His wings that were still covered in bandages and the glaring possibility Cassian wouldn’t fly again. 

“It is not-” 

“Azriel can walk,” Nesta hissed. That was the wrong thing to say. Cassian pushed up onto his forearms and the room heated with his magic, attempting to aid him. His left wing bent and his right lifted. Fear gripped me with the realization he was actually trying to prove us wrong.  _ That idiot. _

“Stop it, Cass, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Rhysand barked out, his brows worried together as Cassian forged on. Sweat beaded his brow. I felt warmer as well from how much of his power leaked into the room. His arms trembled from the effort of supporting his lame wing. 

“If Azriel intends on killing himself then I guess I have to join him,” Cassian gritted out. 

“You’re being an idiot, lay back down,” Azriel snapped. No one dared touch his wings or try to push him back, lest they injure him more or cause his wings to move reflexively. We were all forced to watch Cassian struggle with his wings. I was caught between the fear of what would happen if he moved them and the implications of what would happen if he  _ couldn’t  _ move them. 

Rhysand’s heartbeat was erratic in my ear, not knowing what to do or say to keep Cassian from injuring himself worse. “Cass, stop,” Morrigan hissed out, rushing towards the bed. It was Nesta, standing to the side, who caught my eye. Her fists tightened by her side, she glared at the ground and trembled. I didn’t have to feel her magic to know she was struggling to contain it. 

“Enough,” I shouted out and tapped straight into the Day Court’s magic, taking a page from Lucien’s book. Instincts took over and I sucked in a piece of Cassian’s magic, working it and weaving until it was indistinguishable from my own magic. It came naturally to me just as it had to Lucien. I needed no explanation what to do with the magic inside me as it was a piece of me, just as integral as my thoughts and feelings. Only when I released the ward could I speak. “You’ll leave Velaris when I say so. Not a day before.” 

Cassian’s head snapped towards me. “What did you do?” 

“Attempt to leave and find out,” I snapped. 

Rhysand shot me a grateful look. He clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “In a couple of days we will speak again,” Azriel looked ready to argue but Morrigan placed a hand on his other shoulder. 

“We thought you both were going to die for an entire night. You’ll indulge our fears for the next few days,” she offered a half-smile but Azriel’s face only tightened. 

“Did Feyre just put me on  _ house arrest _ ?” Cassian hissed out. 

“You deserve it for acting like a fool,” Nesta replied coldly, still standing off to the side. She was no longer making fists but had wrapped her arms around her waist, containing anything she might produce to herself. 

**Nesta:**

I was wholly unprepared when Cassian summoned his magic. Without his siphons, it came out much like mine did, erratic and uncontrolled. The entire room smelled vaguely burned. We were left alone after Feyre warded Cassian and I was thankful for the chance to be away from the others. Their combined magics wreaked havoc on mine. I found I lost most of the conversation while trying to keep mine in check. 

When Cassian had summoned his, that had been the final straw. While everyone approached the bed to dissuade him, I had backed away. If I lapsed in control, I knew my best chance was containing the destruction to myself. My magic had been leaping around inside me, jabbing at all my insides to find a way out. It was the first time Cassian’s magic had riled my own. 

“I can’t believe she warded me,” he breathed out, pressing his face into his pillow. I didn’t reply. I swallowed through the thickness in my throat. As his magic receded, controlling my own got easier. I could silence it better even though it meant returning to the ever present cold feeling. “I can’t let Azriel go alone. He got injured first. Like it or not, he needs someone to cover his back,” Cassian justified to himself. Noticing I had yet to speak, he looked to me. “Nesta?” 

I glanced up at him, glaring. “I didn’t know you had a death wish. You should have told Madja before she bothered healing you." 

His eyes widened incrementally. “Azriel needs-” 

“Rest like you do,” I cut off. “Not a damn thing more. You haven’t stood without assistance from Madja in a week. What could you possibly do on a battlefield?” 

His lips pursed and brows furrowed. “Don’t underestimate me.” His voice was darker and angrier; his response was a relief to me. I had found whatever emotions lay under that skin of his. 

I took a step closer to him. “You can’t stand alone. Do you deny it?” 

“No, but-” 

“Then you have no business leaving the bed.” 

“I’m not an invalid,” he barked, his shout echoing off the walls. His chest heaved. Sweat dripped from his brow. He’d exerted himself too much already. He needed more rest and he wanted the exact opposite.

“The only part of you that’s an invalid is that mind of yours. You can’t rush off to battle like you are.” 

He laughed humorlessly. “Could have fooled me. Bringing breakfast up to my room because I can’t make it to the table on my own. Meetings in my room. Knowing Rhysand is alone on a killing field while I am in bed,” his eyes slid to me. They had darkened several degrees, emphasizing the shadows underneath. “Your sister is on a killing field alone.” 

I ignored his obvious attempt at wrankling my nerves. “Would you rather be excluded?” We glared at each other for a long moment. I had neared him enough to sit on the edge of the bed where his head laid. When he broke the contest, he then chose to glare at every visible part of my body like even the dress I wore mocked him. 

He lost the tension in his shoulders with a drawn out sigh. He collapsed onto his pillow. “I might as well be,” he muttered. “Rhysand will need a new General. One without a lame wing.” 

“We aren’t sure if your wing is lame.” 

“It’d be a miracle if it isn’t,” he shook his head, voice muffled by the pillow. “Hybern’s soldiers knew what to aim for. They knew I’d be stupid enough to use my wing like a damn battering ram and they just waited for the right moment,” his voice was so low. His shoulder’s sank downwards. “They knew how to break an Illyrian.” 

“You consider yourself broken?” 

He looked up at me, his lips trying and failing at forming a smile. “If I can’t fly, of course.”

I shook my head, sighing. I knew this conversation would come and yet I still felt unprepared for it. “I don’t think I’ve seen you fly once,” I started. He followed every motion of mine closely, ears perking as well. “I don’t see someone who is broken. I see a male giving up. Should we tell Hybern we surrender? He’d love nothing more then if we stopped wasting time and gave him our willing necks,” Cassian’s body got tenser and I knew I was walking a blade’s edge while riling the male. “I’m sure he’d love to throw me back into the Cauldron just to get all his precious magic back-” 

Cassian snarled, hands clenched in the bedsheets. “We won’t surrender to that bastard. He won’t  _ touch  _ you let alone see you.” He stared at the wall like he could burn his way through to Hybern. 

“I’m glad to hear you agree,” I let a mirthless smile show. “The only way we are going to win is together. Whether or not, you can fly,” I reached out to ease my hand onto his, enjoying the radiating heat from his skin. Even through my glove I could feel it. 

Cassian looked up at me with a sad smile. “You don’t care if I don’t fly again?” his voice was raw, eyes red and pleading. The notch of his throat bobbed heavily when he swallowed. 

“I care,” I replied quickly. He nodded numbly, saddened. I grasped his chin, bringing his focus back to me. Leaning down low to meet his eyes, I dropped my voice, “But only because you do. Whether or not you can fly is...not why I am here,” I reasoned, softly. Once the words were out, I knew they were true. Cassian had wings and that was an aspect of him but only a piece. What pull the male had over me was completely divorced from the fact he had wings. 

Watching the gold return to his amber eyes made me feel warmer than his magic ever did. My reward was his half-smile and I lazily thought, _we can do better than a half-smile._ I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. I intended it to be a chaste kiss, nothing more than an incentive but he knew me too well. He knew I'd scurry off the first chance I got to distance myself. Cassian's hand came to rest at the base of my skull, ensuring the kiss lasted. 


	102. Dine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I love banter so much I'm willing to write an entire chapter that focuses on it.
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

Within the first days of staying at the Spring Court, I learned two important lessons. One, Elain’s visions came at their own pace. No amount of urging from Elain or I would prompt a vision. I had connected that my magic was able to placate hers, in a way, and keep it calm; her own lack of control would let it spill out uncontrolled if I hadn’t stepped in. When I had taken my magic away from hers, her magic had risen almost immediately but no visions followed. We weren’t sure if my magic would prevent her visions from coming all together so we worked on her controlling her magic herself so she wouldn’t miss a vision. But Elain wasn’t so thrilled with the possibility of having another vision. She was almost alone in her lack of enthusiasm for her visions. 

The Day Court had quite the opposite reaction. After shouting at Helion for telling them, he had calmly straightened his robe and chuckled. Daring me to shout again with his golden eyes, he replied that the news was limited to the staff in his private residence and they were sworn to secrecy. I hadn’t been so accepting of that. Helion was forced to reveal that all servants, upon entering his employment, were forced to accept being warded. All information revealed to them by Helion couldn’t be repeated unless he relaxed their wards. 

I had been repulsed by the idea. Fae wards were notorious for going against the caster’s wishes. Helion had only shrugged and stated that they willingly entered his service. 

Since hearing that their guest was a Seer, the servants had been particularly dedicated in ensuring we had everything we needed. Elain had quickly used this to her advantage to gain robes that fit her to her liking. Besides that small abuse of power, Elain shied away from all their attention. She kept to our apartments, especially the porch where the plants were kept, and had perfected the art of wearing white and staining it all by the end of the day. Even fae clothing which resisted grime had limits and Elain pushed all of them. 

I would return from my research to find her out on the patio, enjoying the late sun. Then, we would both turn our focus on controlling her magic and encouraging another vision. The very same visions she resisted seeing. 

I understood her hesitance but if she didn’t experience her visions, she would never know how to control them when they resurfaced. If that were the case, I’d have to inform Feyre and Nesta that if they wanted to see her, they’d have to come to the Day Court. I cringed at Feyre’s reaction that Elain would be confined here. I grew nauseous from Nesta’s. As Cassian had told it, Nesta had said  _ ‘she’d call him a dog but that’d be insults to all dogs’ _ . So that left Elain and I with one choice: learn to control her visions. I grew used to her untamed magic, without my magic to subdue, as it came to life around us. 

The second lesson had been ironic and bitter to say the least. When Tamlin had banished me, I had hated my rootless existence. It was another dividing factor between Elain and I and declared me as a traitorous bastard. Rhysand’s blithe acceptance of me among his inner circle had lessened the sting; I had been an outcast among the Court of Outcasts. Now that Helion had acknowledged that I was his son, I almost wanted to return to that rootless existence. 

The male was like Cassian when he would winnow from the war camps to visit Nesta. Persistent and all too stubborn. Helion eagerly set the rule forth Elain and I would join him for dinner and as High Lord, and our host, we weren’t able to deny it. At dinner, he would tell us about Seers and the general history of their existence with the Day Court. With each word he spoke, I was formulating the idea Helion had no intention of releasing us even after Elain finished her training. 

As much as I wanted to provide Elain with a home, I resisted making that home anywhere near Helion and his court.  _ Even if he has a library that puts all others to shame _ , I thought bitterly. 

Elain sensed my sour thoughts and her magic danced a little when she looked at me. We were seated out on the patio and bathed in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun. In the Day Court, everything was cast in orange, pink and yellow hues at sunset. It made Elain’s skin look like bronze, her freckles almost painted on her face. When night came, we’d be expected at dinner again. 

“Would you want to leave the Day Court?” I asked. She danced between the various potted plants she had collected since arriving. Her long white dress fluttered around her. It was simple. It fell to her feet and ended at her elbows. The only hint at her body underneath was a golden cord that tied several times from underneath her breasts to her waist. To my immense enjoyment, Elain had adopted the Day Court tradition of no undergarments. A fact that was reiterated when the air got chiller.

She dipped her head. “Feyre and Nesta are in the Night Court,” she replied easily. 

“Will you take all your plants then?” I asked, flicking a finger at a Tropical Dogwood with brilliant red petals. I had learned the names of each plant by virtue of sitting with Elain, her words diffusing into me. 

She spun to face me, the sun at her back and forming a halo from her silhouette. “Would you ask me to leave them behind?” she asked in mock outrage. 

“It would take several trips to winnow them all,” I said thoughtfully, counting every terracotta pot I could. I lost track after twenty. 

Taking this as a complaint, Elain  _ hmpfed.  _ “Or I could winnow them back and leave you here,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at the bush she was currently pruning. Our link gave her emotions away. The stiffening of her body had nothing to do with her shock and everything to do with the tightening in her abdomen. 

I grinned. “I think you have greater need of me then these plants but I could be wrong.” 

Elain paused in her assessment of the shrub. She’d dropped her shears and straddled my lap in one, swift leap. I had already placed my book down in anticipation to use both my hands to hold my eager mate. I had been born with fire in my veins and yet nothing compared to the inferno Elain incited in me. Her undamped magic fanned mine without thought. Her round eyes stared deeply into mine, missing nothing with that all-knowing look she mastered.  _ Seer, indeed _ . “Do you need me?” she asked, voice slightly breathy. Her hips moved and I felt her dampness through my robes. 

I groaned a little, rising to meet her lips that she refused to let kiss me. She stared at me while my mind struggled to keep up with the circles her body made above mine. My gaze was half-lidded and I didn’t care how delusional I looked. 

Taking my silence as an affront, Elain stepped from my lap. I made a low whining sound that stopped the moment she dropped to her knees. The proof of my own need had made itself a tent in my robes and the sight of her kneeling before me was enough to send all the remaining blood in my body rushing to my groin. She looked up at me through her lashes. Her nails raked up my thighs, inching my robes back to my hips. Without hesitation, she put her wet lips on the tip of my cock and swirled her tongue. 

Pleasure was first and my eyes rolled back into my head. I vaguely recall whispering an incoherent plea. Confusion hit next.  _ She hadn’t known I could put my mouth on her...how exactly did she know this?  _ Jealousy was last and I gritted my jaw. 

She laughed, a light and happy sound. I looked at my mate’s glistening eyes. “You put your mouth on me. Does it not work the other way around?” she asked quietly while a blush took over her bronze skin. My relief was palpable and I sank into the chair. Elain, took it as approval and resumed her attentions. Her mouth closed around my shaft and sank lower and lower until she couldn’t make eye contact with me anymore. I was breathing a stream of curses and felt her enjoyment through our bond. Her hair curtained around her cheeks and the moisture dripping from her lips glistened in the sunlight. She’d flick her eyes open every so often to watch my reaction carefully, keenly deciding on how successful she was. 

In near minutes, I was panting and near ready to come. “Elain...I…” I reached to tug on her hair but her head bobbed and ducked my hand. Only a few strands slipped through my fingers and I held them tightly. She answered with a low hum, the vibration pleasurable in a thousand ways. Her eyes opened to meet mine. She was devouring my reaction to her mouth and I felt how my pleasure amplified in her. I could smell it as well even in the crisp air. 

The next moment I reached for her hair, I didn’t miss. My fingers held her head still when I came; I tipped my head back, release echoing through my body. I groaned when her mouth slipped off my shaft and had to press my eyes closed again to memorize the image of her licking her lips. “Are you prepared to say you need me?” she asked, rising from her knees. 

I knew the mating bond was responsible for the lust and the readiness but even I was surprised with how fast my blood boiled at her words. I pulled her to my lap once more. She readily wrapped her legs around my waist and moved her dress so her dripping core was laid upon my wet cock. I brought her face close to mine until our breath intermingled and I kissed her slowly. My other hand stroked between her sodden lips till she was moaning into my mouth. The taste of my fluids on her lips was intoxicating, speaking to all my instincts and pleasing each one thoroughly. She trembled with every lightly delivered stroke that never quite touched her clit. Her inner thighs tightened around me. 

“Yes, Elain, I need you,” I told my mate, parting her lips with two fingers. She cried out when I entered her, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck to anchor herself to my chest. My hands went to her waist, guiding her hips and setting a rough pace. She laid kissed on my neck while pleading for completion, making small mewling sounds that heated my blood. My fingers swept over the flesh of her thighs and ass. I quickened my pace as we neared completion and only until Elain was nearly praying in my ear did I follow her in climaxing myself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We must have set a record for the number of wardrobe changes in a day. Luckily, we had a stockpile in our apartments but the proof was in the laundry we had sent away for. Dressing for dinner, Elain just replaced her soiled white dress with the exact same replicate. She left her hair unbraided though, having no need to tie it back to do her gardening. 

We walked arm-in-arm to dinner and I drank in Elain’s happiness, radiating at me through the bond. Even with her next to me, sharing my bed and my day, it all felt unreal to me. It was all golden. 

Helion was late to dinner but he didn’t apologize. He only took his seat at his side of the table with little grace, tossing his golden spear into the air before it vanished. He poured himself a long draught of liquor and sat back in his chair, golden eyes sizing Elain and I up. Elain reacted to Helion in much the same way she did with Cassian, by remaining as quiet as possible until she knew exactly how to respond.

“I haven’t seen Rhysand’s General  _ or  _ his spymaster in quite some time,” he remarked while lazily regarding his glass. This was how dinner went. A battle of minds and of will. 

“He’s a spymaster,” Elain replied, taking a bite of lentils. 

Helion flicked amused, golden eyes towards her. “Yes my dear fawn, but I have a tendency to illuminate even shadows,” he smiled. He knew when we fenced his questions and wasn't so easily deterred. One didn't become the High Lord of the Day Court without mastering the ability to sort through information for falsities. 

“Not Azriel’s,” she shrugged. I smiled at her wit. Speaking of them made me miss my tentative family more so. I wondered if Azriel had already returned to the front. Or if Cassian had risen from his sickbed yet. He had been there when I was healing, it felt wrong to have left so prematurely. I made a mental note to look into any books on Illyrian healing while I was here. Though, I doubted I'd find any. Once again, the Night Court's literature was carefully guarded and having seen Velaris, I knew the reason why. They guarded their people more diligently then any other Court had. 

I saw the thoughts in Helion’s mind change tactics. “So…” he dragged out, taking a swig from his glass. “Did we make progress today or fae?” I choked on my wine, splattering my tan robes with crimson. The stain on my clothes was nothing in comparison to Elain's cheeks. Elain straightened, narrowing her eyes at the High Lord and performing a remarkable impression of her sisters. “So the latter I take it?” he casually sipped his liquor, eyeing us over the rim. 

Helion won that night. 


	103. Concoct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot moves on! 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

In a war camp, dressing in anything other than full body armor felt like a moral wrongdoing. Yet, Tarquin sent word that we would be safe in his camp and no one would harm us. Rhysand had bristled. “That’s definitely _not_ a ploy,” he taunted, rolling his eyes. But he was already unbuckling his armor.

I went to his side to help him. He didn’t need it but I liked the closeness. His hands fell to my armor instead. I felt he was tugging a little roughly but it only pulled me closer so I made no comment. “And yet we are taking off our armor,” I smiled, glancing at his reaction from underneath my lashes. His practiced hands easily shed my armor and I felt oddly bare without the heavy plate. 

“I’ve a reputation to maintain, Feyre. As do you might I add,” his lips pursed as he worked the laces of my vambrace. When he tossed them away, I shrugged off the gauntlets that guarded my knuckles. He tipped my chin up to meet his gaze. “You bow before no one and nothing; all is conquerable before you,” he said in a low voice that reverberated in my spine. 

My throat tightened and my voice came out quiet, “So arrogant.” 

“I am proud...and right,” his violet eyes were depthless. He huffed softly, lips curling in a devious smile. “Amren has said you might possibly be heir to all seven Courts; all _is_ conquerable for you,” he emphasized. 

“That doesn’t bother you?” my brows furrowed. “Not only do I threaten your-”

He silenced my train of thought by pressing a finger to my lip. His face was firm, eyes hard. “If I were to die, it would be my only wish that you succeed me. You’ve already shown yourself more than capable. You were born for this, Feyre,” his voice was intense, filled with fervor. My heartbeat was erratic. Panic was roaring inside me at the thought of losing the male in front of me. We had been inseparable for over a few months now. Such a short time and yet I knew without him, I would be lost and near immortality would be an unfathomable journey. 

Rhysand’s warmth through the bond brought my thoughts back to his soft smile that he saved for me. His hand pressed flat against the small of my back, our chests pressed together. “I do believe you are the first High Lady in history, Feyre,” he said, eyes tracing my collarbone visible through my unlaced tunic. 

I squinted.

He stepped towards me, backing me up towards the table where we shared our meals among other things. Easily, he lifted me to sit on top and stepped between my legs, leaning into me. 

On the table was a map of Prythian, currently marked with the various positions of troops, both ally and enemy alike. Rhysand guided my hand over the map face, tracing the woods of the Autumn Court to the rolling fields in the Day Court. He spoke lowly into my ear, sending more shivers down my spine. “A High Lord is defined by the magic inside them. It binds them to their land. Hybern can wreck the Spring Court, set fire to the Summer Court and yet after we win this war, Tarquin and Tamlin’s magic will restore the land to it’s former glory in a matter of months. _That_ is precisely why Hybern can take no survivors if he wishes to truly own the land.” 

Rhysand’s nose traced the shell of my ear, his breath fluttering down my neck. My focus was declining. “Won’t he be ruling over ashes then, without the High Lord’s magic?” 

Rhysand considered it for a moment, pausing his examination to let me gather the scraps of my mind. “That’s a question for Helion. The land could become barren or something like the Human Realm,” he shrugged. “But my point being, you can inherit their abilities....and their connection to the land. You _are_ a High Lady,” he pointed out. 

“I don’t want to rule the other Courts,” I frowned, tearing my eyes from the map to seek out Rhysand’s. For some reason, I wanted to seek shelter in my mate’s arms. I wanted him to hold me and tell me I wouldn’t have to see another Court for at least a few centuries. I was content with ruling alongside Rhysand in the Night Court. I had spent my human years gazing at the stars; it was right that I remain in the Court they called home. More importantly, I wanted to spend my years with my mate. I’d trade all my magic back, if that wouldn’t kill me, to ensure it. “I want to stay in the Night Court, with you.” 

He beamed at me. I didn’t think many people got to see his light as much as his dark. The night sky was more than endless shadows; it was equally full of stars, galaxies and our moon. A complex balance of nightmares and dreams. “It would be my honor,” we pressed our foreheads together and he leaned forward to kiss me slowly. It was unrushed. We tasted each other with languid strokes of our tongues. Our chests were flush together, one of his hands cupped the back of my head while the other held my waist. My arms were wrapped around his head and I absentmindedly stroked through his short, dark hair. It was times like these when his wings unfolded from his magic and I could relish their grace, their power. 

Rhysand had other plans. He nipped along my chin softly and I sighed, breathing in his smell of salt and citrus. The ocean would forever remind me of him. He pulled away to meet my eyes. “Would you be my High Lady?” he asked quietly. “Would you be heir to our lands? I ask you to give over yourself, body and spirit, to the Night Court and allow nothing to take from our people and lands. I ask you to seek blood and mercy in equal measure for the rest of your days, under the gaze of all those who have come before, until you return to your place among them.”

Tears leaked from my eyes but I couldn’t take my eyes from his. I nodded. “I swear it.”

Rhysand’s answering smile made my skin glow and I knew it was his magic I got it from. Our kiss held us for several heartbeats; the two of us merely extending our time with each other. Pleasure was a part of our closeness but our spirits and souls were still melding together in a sensitive embrace. 

He reached into his back pocket and unfolded his hands to reveal a pair of earrings. “I didn’t think you’d want a ring...in a war...and I suppose you might be tired of rings,” he explained, words failing him. Tamlin had given me a ring and it had nearly killed me to wear. With Rhysand, though, I’d wear shackles if it kept me with him. 

Each earring was a small charm that dangled just off the ear. One was a moon, outlined in silver and filled in with a clear diamond. The other was an eight-pointed star, outlined in gold and filled with an opal, shimmering with all colors of the rainbow. 

I bit my lip as Rhysand moved to insert them into my ears. My mother, before her death, had pierced our ears when we were all born. But I had never worn a pair since then and it felt right that my first pair would be from Rhysand. “And what should I give you in return?” I asked him, voice a little choked. “So that everyone knows you are my High Lord?”

“That, I leave to you,” he said, arms wrapping around my waist. “But in two weeks, our people will celebrate Starfall. I’d like to present you to our people...as their High Lady and as my mate,” he said, eyes meeting mine hesitantly. 

“That would be perfect,” I nodded quickly, eager to banish all his doubts and fears. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And as a true High Lord and High Lady would, we attended to our duties first before each other. Rhysand dressed in his black kurta tunic with purple whorls that fell from the shoulders and I matched him in a saree of the reverse color scheme, embellished with little silver medallions along the top and skirt. 

Then, Rhysand strapped his leather sword belt across his waist instead of along his spine. At my inquisitive gaze, he raised a sheepish brow. “I agreed to dress casually...not go completely naked.” 

I laughed and then joined him, strapping my own sword belt to my waist and letting the scabbard hide within the folds of my dress. I did nothing but braid my hair down my spine, to emphasize the earrings I now wore. Every chance I got, I’d reach a hand to fiddle with the pieces just to remind myself they were there. When my fingers brushed over them I felt like I had touched pure magic but only this magic didn’t burn.

When we linked arms, it felt like it had the first time. Back when Rhysand had claimed me as his mate and we were walking through the Night Court camp for the first time. All eyes were following us and why shouldn’t they? We were dressed as their High Lord and Lady would be and that commanded their attention and awe. 

Morrigan met us at Tarquin’s camp and I immediately felt underdressed in comparison. The female in front of me was resplendent in a glimmering shirt, the color of garnet, that cut off tantalizingly close to where her breasts fell and churidars that started dangerously low on her hip. The exposed skin was golden brown and well muscled. Falling from her exposed belly button was a golden piercing. She wore golden bangles and matching hoops that had little bells hanging from them too. She left her hair unbound for once and it shimmered just as much as her jewelry did. Or almost as much as her eyes.

“You must really trust the Summer Court to go unarmed,” Rhysand remarked, smiling at his cousin. A mirthful and teasing lilt to his voice. 

“Who says I’m unarmed?” Morrigan planted a hand on her hip. 

We laughed and followed her into Tarquin’s private quarters where Tarquin, Varian and Cresseida were already lounging in wait. When we walked in, Tarquin rose to his feet to greet us and his cousins followed his lead. I felt more at ease seeing that the Summer Court fae were dressed as equally relaxed and fine as we had.

Though they chose to wear their jewelry in their hair. Each of them had white dreads woven with silver thread where seashells and seaglass hung. When they moved, a musical clinking would sound. The rest of their garb was simple with deep blue skirts that ended mid-calf and only Cresseida wore a long white cloth that draped around her neck and hid her breasts from sight. Tarquin and Varian wore beaded necklaces with large sand dollars and seashells that draped over their sternum, each one painted with fine silver inlay. 

Tarquin rose and shook Rhysand’s hand while I kept neatly tucked on Rhysand’s arm. I might be able to inherit their lands but that was a secret both Rhysand and I agreed should remain secret. My High Lady title would extend to the boundaries of the Night Court and no further, at least until this war was over.

I stowed away Tarquin’s rather amicable gesture for later when my mate claimed the High Lord hated him. Tarquin glanced between us before waving us over to his table. “The food was just prepared,” he smiled. “Not as good as the coast’s catch but preferable to-”

“Camp gruel?” Rhysand provided, smiling to Tarquin in what I knew was a forced attempt at friendship. I grinned inwardly at what entertainment this night would provide, hoping it would pass easier than breakfast had back in Velaris. 

“Definitely better than boiled oats,” Varian huffed while uncovering a tray of baked flounder and another bowl of scallops in a delightfully smelling red sauce. Varian and Cresseida flanked Tarquin across the table and Morrigan and I did the same with Rhysand on the other side. “But thankfully, tonight we can have wine,” he nodded towards two green bottles that he uncorked with a flick of his hand. 

_Helpful trick, that,_ Rhysand’s voice filled my mind. _Jot that down for Party Tricks for Starfall._ I smiled while Rhysand poured me some wine and served me a plate. My fear of wine having lessened since being with Rhysand. I knew he’d protect me so I didn’t fear the dulled effect on my senses. Despite this, I only sipped my glass. I still had an early morning to look forward to with Morrigan to winnow to the Human Realm on the continent. 

_You’ve yet to explain Starfall to me,_ I laughed in response. _Is it a circus or a ceremony?_ I teased. 

Our silent conversation was interrupted by Tarquin. “I have had an idea for gathering the piece of the Book of Breathings in the Summer Court,” he began. Varian and Cresseida shot their High Lord different looks of confusion and shock. 

Rhysand and I debated the importance of the Book of Breathings all last night after Nesta’s admission. If she held the Cauldron’s magic, who cared who had the piece of pottery? Yet, we both agreed that if Nesta couldn’t control the Cauldron’s magic then the Book would be necessary to nullify it as well as save my sister. We also knew that whoever controlled the Book would have both Nesta and the Cauldron, so she should be the keeper of both too. 

And that Nesta’s abilities were to never be revealed under any circumstances. If Hybern came crashing through the camp, maybe we’d rethink our secrecy but until then, Nesta’s power was to remain just as guarded as Velaris. If she was the key to the Cauldron’s raw magic then there would be little we could say or do to keep her in the Night Court. At best, the High Lords would demand she show equal favoritism to the other Courts and spend her time equally within each. At worst, they would demand Nesta be warded either to seal her magic or place her in a deeper sleep. 

I resented the idea of yet another secret but it would have to be Nesta’s choice whether or not we revealed it. And only after she trained with her magic could she make it. I made that stipulation over the fear she would voluntarily seal herself to keep the magic safe, locked away from everyone around her. I dare say Cassian would have a few choice words to dissuade her but Nesta would do what she thought would protect us, regardless of what we wanted or said. My eldest sister’s brand of love was harsher than mine own but just as strong. 

“We use the Andros to get us to the Summer Court,” Tarquin began. “Our magic would allow us to walk at the bottom of the river, right to its mouth just south of Adriata.” 

“And Hybern’s ships?” Morrigan quirked a brow, placing a cut of scallop on her tongue. The red sauce turned out to be exorbitantly spicy and so naturally, Rhysand descended on the morsels with vigor. 

“I’m sure the Autumn Court could supply us with enough havoc to occupy the ships,” Tarquin shrugged. Morrigan scrunched her nose and both Cressedia and Varian swallowed, watching the discomfort. “Or we ask the Darkbringer legion. I’m sure they are equally versed in chaos?” Tarquin provided, noticing Morrigan’s change just as astutely. It made me smile at the Summer fae a little brighter. I saw good in Tarquin and I wanted our Court to see it just as well. 

“Oh, more so,” Rhysand nodded, reclining on the cushions. I joined him and Tarquin followed our movements with interest. His clear blue eyes missed nothing, everywhere Rhysand and I touched was subject to assessment. I saw the wistfulness in those orbs of his. _A true romantic at heart_ , I noted quietly to myself. Whoever married or mated Tarquin would find a lover instead of a High Lord. “But Adriata is still heavily occupied. We’d need to simultaneously draw away the bulk of Hybern’s forces and also make it seem as if Adriata is still highly guarded,” he considered.

“We’d need to be covered by the night,” Tarquin prompted, tilting his head meaningfully. 

“I do believe that is where my involvement begins,” Rhysand nodded in quiet acceptance. 

“Then would you also break into every mind that glanced at Adriata and convince them the city is undisturbed?” Varian stared harshly at Rhysand. I resisted baring my teeth at the overly bold fae. Rhysand’s hand squeezed my knee in a soothing gesture which Tarquin’s eyes didn’t miss either. 

“That’s a very vague population to monitor and even my abilities have their limits, Varian, though your confidence in me is noted,” Rhysand smiled amiably. Varian bristled but it had less of a cold edge to it and closely resembled a disbelieving snort. 

“Then we would need to replace the soldiers guarding Adriata...a ghost force,” Morrigan squinted into the air. 

“High Lord Tamlin can shapeshift,” Cresseida mentioned and I felt the eyes sliding to me from around the room. _Must they do this every time Tamlin is mentioned?_ I grumbled to myself.

But Rhysand knew how to take their attention away from me long enough to land it on him. “If Tamlin shapeshifts as the guards posted nearest where the Book is held, I can ensure no one looking his way looks too closely,” he confirmed with a confident nod of his head, eyes far off as he calculated. The Summer fae sat in stunned silence. Rhysand and Tamlin’s bad blood having extended centuries with no end and the transition of my person seemingly solidified the already deep rift. Rhysand, over dinner, bridged that gap with an airy offer to work in tandem with the High Lord of Spring. 

I smiled openly this time at my mate. He wanted better for this world and knew that his own personal misgivings would come second to our future. Tarquin’s eyes flicked between us with unveiled interest, as if he could also see the mating bond if he tried. 

“If Helion can guide us through the wards, then we might just have a plan to get the other half of the Book,” Tarquin nodded, albeit in a strained manner. Any questions I had were discarded in favor of the toast we all drank to: _destroying Hybern._


	104. Monitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *droping foreshadowing like I got butterfingers* lol let me know if it's too heavily salted 
> 
> For those wondering why Nesta/Cassian seem to progress at the pace of snails: they will get there and sooner rather than later. Be patient with this writer! In the meantime I'll dish out Feysand and Elucien like nobody's business, deal?
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

I thought if I ignored Amren I wouldn’t have to train with her. When she winnowed into the kitchen while I ate a meager breakfast of mangos and rice, she had given me a choice. Either I go to the address she handed me at the designated time or she winnows me herself. I agreed because I resisted the concept of winnowing wholeheartedly. Also, unlike the remainder of the inner circle, Amren did not care what magic I released and I suspected it was because she knew she would survive whatever I could produce. At least long enough to tear me to ribbons. 

When she left, I went back up the three flights of stairs to Cassian’s room to bring him his breakfast. I cringed at the domestic picture we painted but secretly liked the purpose I had. I got up just before dawn and my day was filled with meaningful tasks. I’d prepare the fresh drush root, set up breakfast and boil new gloves and bandages for when I had to apply it. In the morning, I’d sit by the window and flip through the books on Illyrian anatomy. 

Madja would come by when Cassian woke and walk me through how to flex his wing. Usually, we had to give Cassian a decent amount of sedative during his exercises so he wouldn’t strain himself.

When he came from his stupor, we could talk. As Rhysand sent brief updates daily on the war front, our conversation normally fell to the war and Cassian would dictate replies while I recorded. Even if Cassian wasn’t fighting on the war front, he still commanded troop movements. Every move Rhysand, Feyre and Mor made or planned to make was critiqued till he was sure they had the best plan of action. After, I’d deliver the letters to Azriel to review himself. He’d sometimes sit in when Cassian was critiquing but I got the feeling Azriel knew I relished those moments most and made himself scarce. 

Cassian would talk me through tactics I didn’t understand and I got to see the General’s mind in full. His eyes would heat at the thought of battle and he’d tell me the experiences where he learned all his tactical wisdom from. It usually began with Cassian making a devastating mistake and ended with Casian learning to never make said devastating mistake again. And then Cassian made the same mistake again, the next time on purpose, just to be sure it was a mistake. 

I would sit in the window, soaking up the sunlight and it’s warmth, and listen endlessly to the tones of his voice. He’d spin stories with great detail that it was as if Feyre had painted the scene in vibrant shades of pure life. I’d close my eyes, lean back into one of his cushioned arm chairs to imagine. All the scenes I saw were like the one I witnessed of Cassian in the sparring arena, back in the war camp: full of vigor and passion. 

So the idea that I had to spend an afternoon with Amren instead of listening to Cassian irritated me endlessly. I got back to Cassian’s room with magic making the air crackle. “Good morn’n,” he regarded me with a half-awake gaze. I sat the tray of food on his bed and crossed to my normal seat. 

I reached over the armrest to grab my book, flipping it open to my last page on Illyrian flying formations. “I’m supposed to train with Amren today,” I replied curtly. His hair had grown a few finger lengths and strands stuck out from his scalp. I had attempted to comb them back initially and realized early on why Cassian tied most of his hair back: it was untameable otherwise. “You’ll have to send for Madja to apply the drush root. It won’t be ready by the time I have to leave. Madja will-”

“We’ll manage,” he smiled at me. 

“What?” I snapped the book shut. My mood only further soured. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Nes,” he had started calling me  _ Nes  _ and I hadn’t decided whether I’d let that stay or not. But the nickname went over my head in light of the sincerity in his eyes. 

“I’m not worried,” I replied haughtily. “I just don’t think it’d be good for you to go unsupervised. You’d likely find a way to re-injure yourself.” 

He smiled knowingly and my cheeks heated despite there being infinite times where I controlled the reflex. I found once Cassian and I kissed that my body decided that it would control from then on when and how I’d react to Cassian. It incessantly tugged me in his direction like I was physically tethered to the male. My cheeks would heat at times and I’d find myself crossing my legs incrementally tighter. 

It was a nuisance. 

“Sure, Nes,” he said quietly and I grit my teeth together. I pointedly ignored Cassian until it was time for me to leave. At which point, I cursed myself for ignoring him when I could have passed the time with much more pleasurable options, like talking. Or even the sparser times when we kissed. I rarely let myself so close to the bed, lest my magic act up again, but when I did he would find a way to snatch and pull me closer. Quick as an adder, his hand would grab my hand, wrist or whatever gave him enough purchase to reel me in. Just when I thought I was out of range, he would prove me wrong. 

I couldn’t say I minded being wrong. Not with Cassian. 

Once he had me, he’d lure me in with care and a hold that was heartbreakingly tender. I’d be half-laying on the bed before I’d reach his lips but I didn’t mind. When our lips met, all thoughts and concerns fell away. My magic, the Cauldron and Hybern could not touch me because they no longer took up a place in my mind or body. My senses were attuned to Cassian and he took over each one of them. The smell of cedarwood was near intoxicating from how long he had spent bedridden. His heartbeat, sure and steady, drowned out all other noise. More importantly, I craved the taste of him. 

It wasn’t some part of me that longed for him. It was my entire body. I followed his movements with intensity and my body sang when they brought him closer to me. It was like holding my breath for too long and then finally sucking in. I wanted him so painfully that I couldn’t ignore it with ill-conceived logic and explanations to cover up my attraction. There was no rejecting what I felt and that terrified me.

Because in the times when I wasn’t with him, my magic loved that I was steadily losing control without him. 

That was the other reason I agreed to train with Amren. If I didn’t, I feared how long I would last holding back whatever mountain of power that grew inside me. 

I left the townhouse on quick feet; I wanted to get it over with. Unfortunately, the walk to Amren’s home took me nearly halfway across Velaris. By the time I had arrived, I was fuming from the time I spent away. It was the fae from earlier who greeted me at the door. “Oh, Lady Nesta,” she smiled, swinging the door open for me. My unease at her knowing me but me only vaguely knowing her must have shown. “No need to be worried, I was Lady Feyre’s handmaiden in the Spring Court. My name is Alis,” she said so casually, barely regarding me long enough to confirm I would follow her inside. 

“And now you’re here,” I replied, stepping into the foyer. A narrow set of wooden stairs sat in front of me and Alis began to ascend them. 

“Well yes...Lady Feyre invited us here after Hybern ambushed the refugee camp,” she said tightly, keeping her head focused on taking the stairs two at a time. “With Bron and...and the others,” she added quietly. 

“And now you serve Amren.” 

“ _ Lady  _ Amren has a need for staff. She is very...remiss in the domestic chores of the house.” 

“She’s lazy,” I translated.  _ Sounds familiar,  _ I smiled to myself. 

“Otherwise occupied,” she corrected. I heard a giggling from behind me. I turned but saw no one. Alis stopped on her way up the stairs to plant a hand on her hip. She sighed, eyes looking skyward like she could commune with the Mother herself. “Thales you  _ will  _ return to the library and finish your morning studies.” The only reply we got was the sound of his feet stomping away. “Lady Amren will see you in her loft-” 

“That’s a lot of respect when just yesterday you were telling her she might lose her nose,” I said flatly, glancing at the bare walls painted in muted greys. Light was pouring in from all around us, the ceiling was replaced with glass windows. Even most of the walls were windows, open and letting in a cold breeze from the city cast in full winter. It was as cold in the room as it was in my body and that reminded me where I  _ should  _ have been instead of training with Amren.

“Lady Amren is misunderstood. She needs a caretaker,” Alis bobbed her head, curls bouncing. 

“If my memory serves,  _ I  _ enlisted  _ you _ ,” Amren spoke from across the vacant space. Only a mattress on the floor occupied the room with several book stacks surrounding it in the corner. Behind the bed was a dark wooden door on the only wall not occupied by a window. 

“Yes but I do all the work,” Alis sniffed.

“And Bron just takes up space,” Amren snorted. If she had pupils, I suspected they would have rolled. 

“No, Bron helps. He’s good at tutoring in the histories,” Alis winked at me, like I knew this  _ Bron _ as well as Feyre probably did. “A war is no excuse that Thales and Linus can’t continue their studies. Though they would like to believe it is,” she shook her head and headed back down the stairs, the wooden steps creaking as she made her way down. 

I turned back to Amren, hating that my magic snapped at the chance to meet hers. The only luck I had was that her magic didn’t prod me though I knew it longed to. Whatever she was and whatever was contained inside her was familiar to my magic, like an old friend. They were longing to greet each other and I viciously ripped mine away, stuffing it back into the cage I had made for it. 

Amren’s fingers danced at her sides, the many silver rings she wore caught the sunlight. Her smoky eyes roamed over me. “Are you going to continue staring or can I leave?” 

“Sit,” she waved me forward to the empty floor. I sighed but did as told, folding my arms in my lap. She continued to stare and once again, my patience was running thin. When she had come to a conclusion, she stalked forward to sit across from me. “Release your magic, Nesta.” 

“No.”  
She lifted an eyebrow, lips curling in a peculiar smile. “You are in training. This is a part of that.” 

“I am not releasing my magic. Teach me how to get rid of it.” 

“Get rid of it?” 

“Yes, like a tumor it should come out.” 

“That won’t happen.” 

I gritted my teeth. “And why not?” 

“Unlike Feyre, you’re life isn’t  _ tied  _ to your magic because you didn’t die to get it. But the magic belongs to you. It would be akin to cutting off your hand; painful and entirely unnecessary.” 

“Unnecessary? I can think of a few reasons-” 

“Girl. I won’t bicker with you endlessly. I have told you what you asked. Now do as I have asked and release your magic.” 

“No.” 

“You need not worry about hurting anyone in this house or city. I’ve warded the home.” 

I opened and shut my mouth. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could leave. Even if the sun was setting in the sky and Cassian would be asleep when I got back, it would be better company then present. 

I eased open the doors, walls and vaults I imagined around my magic. Like Amren could see each gate lifting one-by-one, she grinned. Her teeth were too sharp and eyes too keen as she followed the steady outpour of magic. At first, all my magic did was snap and crackle in the air. Like small explosions without purpose or direction, the magic evaporated into thin air and yet I felt none of my magical supply lessen. It was endless for as far as I could see and it all wanted out. It had too much will to make me comfortable, an insatiable curiosity that craved more.

A window pane cracked somewhere in the apartment and I sucked it all back in like it never happened. In an instant, I had rebuilt all those walls. “I don’t know what is wrong with it. It just breaks things like a child.” 

Amren only continued to smile. “Perhaps because a deathless being is now trapped inside the body of a child,” she suggested, studying my every reaction with a hunger. I only stiffened. I couldn’t very well reject her claim. I didn’t know how old Amren was but she was a great deal older than anyone I had ever met, that much I knew. I could have been elderly and she would have called me a child. I tried not to think about aging, too many thoughts and feelings associated with what I had lost. But also just as many with what and who I had gained. “You can seal your magic so efficiently, more so then I’ve witnessed any other fae do and yet you lack direction.” 

“What?” I didn’t care that my temper had gotten so short it came out in my voice. 

“Your magic is raw. Unlike anyone else’s that has a distinct purpose...yours is just a source. It can become anything. Destroy everything. To do either, you need to give it direction. Without that, it just becomes whatever comes easiest. Now, attempt to make something,” she nodded towards the blank floor in front of me. 

I lit the floor on fire. The wooden beams cracked, peeled and bubbled. They creaked noisily like they might explode. 

But I did not create a single object. 

“Exactly  _ what  _ have you been trying to make?” Amren asked, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand. An unimpressed look plastered on her face. 

I licked my lips. “An orange.”

She barked out a laugh that sounded far more feral than anything I had heard from Cassian. “Yes, well consider that your task. Attempt to summon an orange when you return to that overgrown bat,” she waved me away, rising from her seated position.

“But I wouldn’t have your wards. I could hurt someone,” I rose with her. “I’d rather-”

“There were no wards,” she replied. 

“No wards?”

“I lied. You could suppress your magic quite well on your own. You didn’t need my help. You needed confidence and assurance. Consider that while you attempt to summon your fruit. It could give your magic-”

Her voice was drowned out by the deafening sound of glass breaking. All the window panes above us shattered simultaneously into a million, glittering pieces. My magic had struck out like a whip, capitalizing on my anger to gain access. Glass fell on us and around us, the room got much more breezy.  _ Good.  _ I hoped Amren felt a glimmer of the cold inside me but something told me she didn’t feel anything normal. 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs preceded Alis’s panicked entrance, short on her tail was the male I assumed to be Bron. Both of them were gasping for air, stricken with panic and fear. “Are you alright? We heard the-” 

“Yes, quite,” Amren interrupted Alis. “Continue to direct your magic, Nesta. I’ll call on you again sometime soon,” she dismissed, never apologizing for the danger she could have put Velaris in. She had been the main proponent of me training, claiming that my magic was a danger to everyone around me and yet she never even bothered to ward the room. Instead, she had merely observed my magic and once she had what she needed, dismissed me.

I felt sick to my stomach. My meager breakfast felt like lead. I hiked up the skirts of my dress and fled the room before I lost my stomach in front of Amren, just as I had lost my temper.


	105. Fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

The Human Queens didn’t show. 

Morrigan had winnowed us across an ocean to a welcoming party of one. Both of us carried a large burlap sack with the various offerings each High Lord had made. My first breath of air on an entirely different continent was of a field that smelled strongly of manure. 

And a single human stood in front of us. 

When I was human, I hadn’t thought myself too different in respect to the fae. I knew I was outmatched in strength and speed but had thought I made up for it with a cunning and a stubborn attitude only outmatched by Nesta. Now that I was fae, when I saw humans I was confronted with how wrong I had been. With barely a sweat, I could release fields of fire, tides that could wash them away or cover them in a blanket of darkness so impenetrable they’d have no chance.

And a single human stood across from us, holding the reins of a horse. 

If the human was surprised at our sudden appearance, he recovered from it before I could see. His eyes narrowed, lips thinning. “You were instructed to come alone,” the human stated, glaring between the two of us. I might be fairly recognizable on Prythian but on the main continent, I was just another fae that was only a smidgen more deemable than the rest of my kind. 

He had a crooked nose that suggested one too many breaks that hadn’t been set right. Other than that one imperfection, nothing else was amiss. His full body armor was gleaming in the morning light and he wore a cape of white, trimmed in gold. He had blond hair that would have been unique had Morrigan’s own hair not looked like molten gold in comparison. 

“Unless you’re a woman underneath that armor, you are not one of the Human Queens,” I raised a brow. I bit my tongue promptly after replying. Sarcasm would not get us the Book of Breathings and we needed that more than I needed to assuage my pride. 

“I am Lord Remus, cousin to Queen Juno and Captain of Her Royal Guard. Their Majesties did not see this meeting fit for them to attend,” he straightened, eyes combing over my figure in a way that would have had dire consequences had Rhysand been present. I wore my recently cleaned armor over my black tunic and churidars, none of which was made to make my curves look appealing. But to humans who wore enough layers to choke in, I must have looked positively indecent. “Are you Feyre Archeron? The human-turned-fae?” he asked, eyes fixing on my sword at my hip.

My teeth suddenly ached and my lips peeled back, baring them to this human. “Yes. Why have the Queens not come? I was led to believe this to be an exchange.” 

“And who are you?” he asked Morrigan, turning to face her directly. I couldn’t tell if his brashness was because he thought so highly of himself or so lowly of us. Either way, I was beginning to think it was a marvelous stroke of luck that none of the High Lords, especially my mate, had come. My pride could easily be wounded; theirs would not suffer the same fate so easily. I believed Rhysand would have kept a clear mind but that would have been disregarded after watching the human size me up.

“My lady asked you a question,” she ground out. 

“So she did,” he raised a blond brow, continuing to stare Morrigan down and awaiting an answer. Morrigan’s eyes alone would have frozen over Lucien's flames. Suddenly, she was leaking magic; she realized belatedly what she had done, yanking it away before it could touch him. Whether he knew what almost happened, he didn’t show. As if the magic’s nearness had been enough, he straightened finally and explained, “The Queens know how fae lie. If they came to this meeting with the Book of Breathings, you could just take it without abiding the terms of the agreement. Instead, we will review what the High Lords have offered for collateral and if it is acceptable, will hand over the Book of Breathings.” 

I didn’t need to have a mental link with Morrigan to know what she thought. It was what we both were thinking and what was clearly written across our faces. _No fucking way._ Heedless of our ire, the man stood with a haughtiness that would have reminded me of Cassian if not for the fact I could have crushed him with a single punch. “Seven High Lords have sacrificed a piece of their power to obtain the Book of Breathings,” I replied evenly, my eyes slightly widened with severity. “I refuse to return without the Book.” 

“Then you are welcome to pitch a tent here and wait; unfortunately-” he said that without a hint of sympathy, “I do not have the Book of Breathings on my person. You will not be leaving with the Book today.”

“Hybern won’t wait any longer. It’s a miracle he hasn’t attempted to conquer the continent,” I uttered, feeling as if Lord Remus had struck me. “We need the Book.”

“That does not change that I don’t have Book,” he raised an eyebrow.

I stood frozen. There was nothing I could do to win or spin this to our advantage. We could not afford to wait for the Mortal Queens to make their decision. We could not afford to meet the High Lords without the Book in hand. My throat swelled thinking about their reactions. Even if we got the Book eventually, I will have failed in their eyes. 

“I will stay, my Lady,” Morrigan said. 

I spun to face her. “Morrigan, we need you-”

“You can’t stay here and we cannot leave the High Lord’s treasures unguarded,” she replied. It was reasonable, it was the most logical solution and yet I hesitated anyway. I couldn’t winnow across continents like Morrigan could. Morrigan was a famed warrior, no High Lord would question her ability to safeguard their treasure. With my magic secret, I was just a mate, just a Lady. 

Not to mention Rhysand would level the continent at the first hint of my fear through the bond. Rhysand could claim as much as he wanted that he knew I was powerful and could handle my own battles; once my fear kicked in, his instincts ruled. I couldn’t say it was any different for me.

“I’ll camp here,” Morrigan nodded to me. 

Lord Remus stepped forward, reaching a hand to take the burlap sacks Morrigan and I held. “I will return in a few days with Their Majesties response-”

“No. Their Majesties will meet Lady Morrigan here or they will open up their palace to both Lady Morrigan  _ and  _ the offerings,” I glared at Lord Remus and he had enough self-preservation to stop where he stood. “Lady Morrigan will report how she is treated,” I said before Morrigan winnowed me back to the continent. My eyes were fixed on her wavy blonde hair. How her jaw was firmly set to convince me she was alright with remaining behind but her eyes were wide and lost, betraying her bravado. “I will not accept any fault in her treatment,” each word came out clipped, carved from ice with a sword that I’d easily drive through the Lord standing in front of me. 

Morrigan didn’t give Lord Remus time to rebut; she winnowed me back to the war camps and barely broke a sweat for it. She might not have been a High Lord but she held just as much magic. I numbly handed her over the burlap sack I held and she swung it over her shoulder. “It’s for the best, Feyre,” she sighed. “We just need to wait. They were being smart. Careful.” 

“Yes and I failed for not seeing it,” I sighed. “And now you’re being punished for it.” 

Morrigan smiled half-heartedly. “Look at it this way. I don’t have to tell the High Lords that you don’t have the Book of Breathings. That falls to you,” she shrugged before blinking out of sight. 

I stared at the space she left for a heartbeat before retreating to Rhysand and I’s tent. Rhysand wasn’t there, of course, having gone into the Spring Court. I wasn’t expected to be back until late. Both Rhysand and the High Lords expected I would take more time. I was supposed to be acting like a diplomat for them, for Prythian. Instead, I had to leave with my tail tucked between my legs along with my Third in Command and had nothing to show for it. Except the promise that  _ maybe  _ in a few days, the Queens would agree to forfeit the Book. 

Feeling the acuteness of my failure like a knife to my gut, I crawled into bed and waited for my mate to return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Rhysand woke me with a kiss to my forehead. “Pleasant surprise,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. I had buried my nose in the blankets, peeking over them to view him in his muddy armor that was currently mucking up the bed. His cheeks were splattered with mud and a few flecks of blood but from the scent, it didn’t belong to him. I breathed deeply again to reassure myself of the fact. 

Once I remembered what led me to my exact location, my face crumpled. “I don’t have the Book.” And I promptly buried my face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, regardless of the sweat and grime. I breathed in deeply through my hiccups just to get to his scent of salt and citrus. 

He accepted me with both arms wrapping around and hoisting me into his lap. “Yes, I figured the lack of ancient magic was because you didn’t forget it on the continent,” his low voice rumbled comfortingly through my chest. Our mental link felt warm from his mind encircling mine. Rhysand knew what his actions did to me and he willingly used all his skills to induce wave after wave of soothing feelings in me. 

But his words, so calmly said, made me feel worse somehow and hot, sticky tears leaked out. “Oh Feyre,” he sighed, muscles going tense as my cries turned into full blown sobs. 

“Morrigan stayed behind to guard all the treasures and they didn’t even show up.” 

“Yes, they do have their own pride,” he sighed out. 

“And they didn’t guarantee they’d hand over the Book. They said they needed time to consider,” I said ‘consider’ like it was a dirty word. “I failed and it was a mistake to even try.” 

He laughed softly. “It was not a mistake. And if they don’t agree then we try things our way.” 

“Which way is that?” I lifted my head from his neck long enough to see the sad mirth in his eyes. My head ached, my nose leaked and Rhysand was smiling like I had dressed up special for him. 

“We tried asking nicely. If they don’t agree to hand it over despite our sign of good faith, we take it from them,” he sighed, his smile fading as he spoke. His eyes grew far off. “I can’t justify anymore bloodshed. I’d rather lose them as an ally than lose anymore life.” I knew when Rhysand was about to winnow me because he tightened his grip on me. When I opened my eyes again, we were sitting on a gray beach. It was the same one Rhysand had winnowed me to when he claimed me as his mate and it felt appropriate to return. He had asked me then if I wanted to keep fighting in the war, if I was willing to keep moving forward.

_ And look where that decision has gotten me _ , I thought bitterly. The worst piece of me came out and ignored all the reasons I used to justify my actions. “I don’t know what to tell the High Lords,” I said, leaning into Rhysand’s warmth. He settled my back flush against his chest and his wings appeared, shielding us from the worst of the crosswind.

“You owe an explanation but you do not owe them an apology,” his chin settled on my shoulder and we watched the waves come in, all of them navy and gray from the northern ocean. “And I’ll not see you give them one. You do not bow.”

“I-” 

He kissed my ear. “Summon your magic, Feyre,” he said. 

“Which magic?” I raised a brow, leaning my temple against his. His violet eyes winked with light and I smiled. “Point taken,” I chuckled but did as he suggested, magic coating my veins when it rose to the surface. My heartbeat quickened and Rhysand’s matched mine. When I called his magic from inside me, our bond would go taught. Rhysand only tightened his arms around my waist and rested comfortably by my ear, bracing himself as my magic pulled him closer to me.

I had never summoned a different Court’s magic in front of another High Lord; except for when I had healed myself in front of Thesan. All times I had called on my magic, I never felt an inkling of what I felt when I summoned Rhysand’s magic with him. It was a living link between us, like we shared the same pulse and breathed the same air. 

Illusions poured out of me and filled the air, sweeping over the space with vibrant colors. Darkness might be what the Night Court is known for but it’s magic was much more true to it’s form. I formed images of Velaris, painting the skyline of our colorful city. 

Rhysand sighed out in relief. His breath tickled my skin. His hands on my waist were too still. “You know we could go to Velaris if you’re missing it so badly,” he teased. My spine tightened from the vibrato of his low voice. 

“Then take me to Velaris,” I laughed, leaning back into his chest. 

“No, I think I’ll keep you to myself,” he nibbled on my ear lobe, careful to avoid my earrings. I stretched against him like a cat but his hand on my waist had moved over my lower abdomen, pressing me firmly against his groin. 

“What makes you think you can keep me?” I breathed out while his hand sunk lower. He jerked the ties of my churidars loose with one quick motion; from the  _ snap _ I heard, I knew the pants would need repair. Liquid heat pooled in my core and Rhysand’s fingers dipped between my lips, stroking up in one fluid motion. My back arched but his other hand kept me immobile, holding me by my armor, just underneath my breast.  _ I had too many layers.  _

“Do you want me to release you?” he asked softly, breath tickling over my sensitized skin. The pad of his finger brushed over my clit and I groaned out. “I will take that as a yes,” he laughed darkly. My armor was so heavy, all the heat I leaked out was continuously setting my skin on fire. He added another finger and pushed deeper. I wanted more and I told my mate as such but he only answered with a confident snicker. His hand was curled inside me and hooked me closer, driving me closer to climax with every pump of his fingers. 

Our proximity wasn’t enough and I was practically panting with need; Rhysand knew this and fully took advantage of it. His cock pressed into my back but he was focused on my pleasure and the noises he wrung from me. His hand was soaked with my desire and he continued mercilessly onward. I came with a plea on my lips. 

“You’re my High Lady, of  _ course _ I am going to keep you,” he said softly. His hands went to the buckles of my armor and I helped shrug off the heavy piece. I turned in his arms to yank at his own breastplate. His lips met mine in a sloppy kiss. 

I knew I’d keep him for the rest of the night, the rest of our lives. 


	106. Witness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

At pre-dawn a vision came. I barely had time to register the stir of my magic before my vision fell away. The worst part of my visions was I retained both my senses of my environment; I could feel the sheets brushing my skin just as well as the cold breeze. Lucien’s breathing tickled my ear lobe and mixed in with ocean waves lapping at my feet. In an ironic sense, my sight came to me last. I could smell the salt of the beach before I could see the yellow sand at my feet. There was shouting somewhere around me but no matter where I turned, I couldn’t locate the source. 

A dark cloud was rising from the forest further inland and from the orange haze hugging the canopy, it suggested a fire. A large one. I didn’t know where I was. There was a forest inland that might have been from the Summer Court except the air was brisk. Maybe the temperature had dropped there since the winter but I had no way of knowing for sure. Thousands of miles of coastline and I couldn’t be sure what patch I occupied. I must have been the worst Seer in the world. I was thrust into these visions and I didn’t have the prior knowledge to make any use of them. 

Helion was wrong. Any other Seer could act on their visions but I had no history of the fae world to speak of. This was all lost on me. Nesta should have been the Seer. She, at the very least, had read through nearly all the histories of Prythian. She probably would have been able to get more from these visions than I ever would. 

All I got was the deafening sound of the ocean, distant shouting and wind whipping against my dress. 

I turned to the north and was pleased to find out that perhaps I  _ could  _ be useful. A city rose up made of stucco buildings and red clay roofs; it would have been beautiful if half of it wasn’t ruined. The walls were all smeared with gray charcoal. Of the buildings that still stood, none of them had windows left. It all had been shattered and left to coat the streets in a fine dust. Some had whole pieces of their walls missing but most had the doors kicked in or blown apart. 

It was a city Hybern had sacked for sure but one that his soldiers still occupied. I could see a few of them walking the streets on lazy patrols. I would have thought after seeing countless visions of them that my response would be more subdued but that never was the case. I could still feel their hands on me when they hoisted me into the Cauldron, the stench of their sweat like rot and disease. How the Cauldron burned my nose and eyes to behold with how  _ bright  _ it was. 

My heart continued to pound against my chest like it was desperate to give out. A cold sweat started across my skin. I knew they couldn’t see me but my fear wasn’t about me. These visions were of events to come; each time I saw Hybern’s colors of blue and gold, something terrible was about to happen. I wasn’t made to see these things. The most blood I had seen in my entire life was when Feyre had brought home animals to dress for dinner and even then I couldn’t stomach watching. There was no comparison for the horror of watching a person die. 

I was drawn to where the city faded into the treeline and I began the long winded process of moving, another characteristic struggle inside these visions. Just like I could sense both surroundings, I could move as well both my body here and where I left it in the Day Court. I hadn’t yet figured out how to do either so masterfully while in a vision. The list of things I had yet to accomplish was growing, it seemed, and never shrunk. 

It took a decent amount of concentration just to identify which pair of legs to prompt and even more effort to move them. My legs felt like weights as I dragged them across the sand.  _ I took walking for granted _ , I thought while I huffed. But I made progress and that was what counted. When I reached the beginning of the canopy, I had to take a moment to breathe heavily through my nose and out my mouth. I leaned on a rough palm tree and bent my head against the bark, closing my eyes. 

The sound of sand shifting brought my attention down the beach. One of Hybern’s soldiers was nearing me and I locked up, freezing in place. He was taller than me by at least a head and his face was obscured by his helm, only his green eyes caught in the moonlight glimmered from within the dark. They stared through me and I took the time to assess the raw emotion in them. Finally, the light struck his face and the severe angle of his lips. A scar drawn from jaw, to nose, and to the opposing brow marred his features. Those eyes were unnecessarily guarded, flicking around as mine would have been if I had been on that beach in person. 

The soldier checked his surroundings again and then turned to the darkness of the treeline. “Feyre?” the soldier asked the shadows, eyes searching. His voice low enough not to be overheard and slightly melodic. The richness of it was at odds with the harsh face staring at me. 

My dread amplified. I squeezed my eyes shut at the involuntary tears. My visions had both people I knew and didn’t; when it came down to it, I preferred not to know the people whose fates I watched. Rarely did my visions end happy and now that my sister was involved, I had to stifle a choked noise. They wouldn’t have heard me but Lucien would. 

The Mother loved to send me visions of my sisters. I couldn’t tell if it was karma for me forgetting Feyre’s existence when Tamlin glamoured me or for allowing her to walk into the woods alone all those years ago. My abilities now would make me the keeper of my sisters; I could no longer play in the background while my sisters fought for me, I had to make decisions for myself and accept their consequences. 

“It’s difficult to maintain the illusion if you insist on interrupting me,” Feyre’s voice floated eerily from the forest. She didn’t sound amused; if anything, Feyre was livid. “Now go away.”

“I wanted to see that you were safe.”

The green eyes clicked.  _ Tamlin _ . I had no idea why the High Lord was wearing another body and I didn’t want to know what happened to the original. When he had come from the direction of the ruined city, he appeared tense and weary of the soldiers. Once Feyre had answered his call, all of that disappeared to be replaced by an easiness. A level of comfort that was at odds with their current surroundings. 

Though I could never tell Feyre, I knew Tamlin did love her on a level that was soul crushing. I didn’t think I had to anyway. On some level Feyre knew and I think she tried her best to squash whatever feelings had led her into Amarantha’s clutches. Feyre had told us what happened Under the Mountain with an emotional distance of someone trying to remain unaffected. It was rather obvious both of them had been deeply altered by the experience. Tamlin had allowed it to blacken him and he had yet to see the far reaching consequences of that. 

“Well I am, now leave before you raise any more suspicion.”

“I have plenty of reason to enter the woods, namely drinking too much ale,” his voice lit with amusement. That would have been amusing had I not joined Feyre in her weariness. He was taking an obscenely long time and with Feyre so close to Hybern’s soldiers, I eagerly wanted Tamlin to get lost. 

“Move,” I grumbled out. 

“Just stay safe...none of the patrols come here but we can’t afford to lose tonight,” he sighed when Feyre didn’t reply, sounding pathetically tired. His shoulders had slumped so much he didn’t seem quite so imposing anymore, a dangerous break in his character for the night. 

“I know what my task is. You’re abandoning yours right now. Go make yourself seen so none of them come looking. Tarquin will be out with the Book in a bit but you need to leave  _ now _ ,” Feyre’s voice hissed from the shadows. She hadn’t yet appeared, choosing to stay far out of sight. Logically, I knew I couldn’t interfere with the vision but I was paralyzed by the same fear of discovery she was. 

Feyre had changed since meeting Rhysand. She wasn’t the same brash girl who talked back and challenged the neighboring boys to fights when they insulted her. She had the same fierceness but it had become more driven, with more direction. She launched herself at her problems and this was no different, the cold calculation in her voice was necessary to send Tamlin on his way. 

Tamlin looked like he had something more to say but he just straightened and continued south down the beach. I was about to push myself towards the direction of Feyre’s voice but the weightlessness crashed over me. My body was tugged, lifted and thrown from the vision. Not unlike the feeling that assaulted me when I had been tossed into the Cauldron. 

I came back into my body in the Day Court with a shock. My eyes flicked open and the pre-dawn light stung. I was laying on my back, arms laid by my side. Lucien’s hand on my stomach brushed the bare skin. I turned to my mate to see him already awake, watching me with those too keen eyes. “You had a vision?” he asked, speaking softly so as not to disturb the morning peace. At my questioning look, he added, “Your magic is a little difficult to ignore.” 

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I breathed out, rolling to face him. His hair had fallen from the braid I had put it in last night and tickled my nose. 

He smiled. “I’d rather be awake for your visions.”

“To pull me out of them?” I was glad he didn’t ask me what happened in them. He knew better, since Helion’s warning, but I’d have a hard time not answering if he ever did. We were to know everything about one another, the good and the bad. I resented that my magic would always remain a secret, an untouchable place that Lucien could not reach me in. I could not share it with him as Feyre did with Rhysand. That left me feeling unknowable and alone.

“Would that bother you?” he winced, undoubtedly thinking back to the night he had reached into my visions and became the door I used to escape them. 

“I’d rather never have to see them to begin with.” 

He mulled over my words, lips pursing to the side. “There is a reason you are a Seer.”

“I’ve yet to know that reason,” I said dryly. “Please let me know when you figure it out yourself.” 

“I have a theory,” he quriked a brow. “But I don’t think you’re ready to hear it yet.” I pouted and reached a hand out, brushing my thumb over his lips. “No, none of that. When it becomes more than a theory, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“No one except Helion and you know that I am a Seer. If you told Helion first, I’d be offended,” I leaned my head into his chest, sighing deeply. I hated my magic but loved my fae senses. He smelled a little like apple sauce and the intrusive thought made me giggle. 

“You don’t seem too offended,” he teased, mistaking my laughter. His hands tickled my waist again. I’d never been comfortable sleeping nude until I slept with Lucien. Which made my change of opinion appear even more drastic: that I grow more comfortable with my body with a male in my bed. It was difficult to feel anything else but relaxed when Lucien stared at me like I hung the sun in the sky. 

“Perhaps telling Helion would make sense,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, ensuring that we would lay in bed at least till the sun rose higher. 

“And why is that?” Lucien’s voice grew distant when we spoke of his father. I understood possibly more than Lucien knew but I tried not to push the topic. 

“Helion, at the very least, cares about my Seer abilities. I think I’d trade with anyone in the world not to see these...things,” my voice got quieter. I intended it to come off as a joke and instead, my heart was already shredding itself into ribbons. 

Lucien’s arms tightened around me in kind, drawing me closer into his considerable warmth. “He said you had the power to act on your visions. When you want to...I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I won’t ask what you see or need further explanation. I trust you’ll make the right choice.”  _ Maybe that is the reason I am a Seer,  _ I thought without any hint of mirth.  _ Because the Cauldron knew my mate would go to the ends of the earth to help me. For reasons he did not know and never would but only because he loved me unconditionally.  _

I hated the Cauldron a little more for making Lucien it’s pawn but that didn’t stop me from nodding. “Then we will need to go see my sisters.” 


	107. Restore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All: no update 11/24 EST, my family wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving early (yes I am americano). I am so sorry for last minute notice, please forgive me! I will do my best to make it up and give 2 chapters on 11/25! Thank you all for reading regularly and I hope I have not broke your faith in me :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Amren came to get me multiple times after that. Each time, I was hard pressed to resist despite how angry she made me. I wanted to, and my magic did as well, to reach out and choke her. It was the same routine. Alis would open the door for me, waylay me with chatter and then drop me in front of Amren in her loft and leave us for hours. Amren would have me release my magic in different ways and I told myself I didn’t care that it usually destroyed what was around me. 

Whatever creation Amren hoped to generate from my magic was not working. She claimed I wasn’t motivated enough. I didn’t care what she wanted, I refused to comply. So when my magic continually shattered the windows of her loft, cracked the paint from her walls and rotted her floor boards, I didn’t attempt to stop it. But no matter how terribly I wrecked her home, Amren only smiled and insisted I let out more magic. The next time I came back, all the damage was restored and ready for me to re-wreck. 

I direly wanted to ask her why she didn’t care that my magic only came out as pure destruction but I kept telling myself not to care. Not to give into my curiosity for this creature. I was still angry with her for not putting up the wards to protect Velaris. Although I had no idea why she hadn’t. Even if she knew I could control my magic, she had admitted herself that I was a risk to the city, the city she cared for. The city that was her responsibility to look after. 

I feared what my magic would do had it escaped her apartment. I couldn’t see why she didn’t as well. I’d return from training angry and avoid Cassian’s room until I was sure my magic wouldn’t attack either of us. The one benefit to releasing my magic in Amren’s home was that it would keep quiet for awhile afterwards. I didn’t hear the mumbling in my mind anymore. 

After a few pointed questions, Cassian and Azriel realized there was little tactical advantage to my direct link to Hybern’s camp. Most of what I heard had been Hybern’s ravings about how he needed to find me and regain the Cauldron’s power but it wasn’t as if he held war meetings in front of a broken piece of pottery. No, Hybern’s ego was too fragile to allow the permanent reminder that his greatest weapon was reduced to an oversized piece of cookware. 

He knew I had taken his Cauldron’s magic. He finally realized it after driving himself mad. He attempted to locate me but all his spells never succeeded. I didn’t ask why that was the case. I never told the others that Hybern knew it was me and actively was seeking me out. As long as Hybern attempted to reach me and failed, that was all that mattered. There was no point to make Cassian worry over something I would not allow to happen. 

I figured, with a tired resignation, that if Hybern was stupid enough to find me again then I would release my magic as I had done with Amren. When that happened, I’d have all the motivation I needed to direct it at them. 

When I walked back into Cassian’s room, Azriel was sitting inside with him. They both remained still and silent when I closed the door behind me. Azriel didn’t even look up. I carried lunch on a tray, a simple board of cheese and meats, and I set it down quietly. Madja must have just left as the licorice smell was still heavy, just applied to Cassian’s back.

Cassian cleared his throat, tilting his head to look over his shoulder at me. Azriel didn’t make any movements which was odd considering he normally left Cassian and I to our own devices. I had a feeling Azriel knew his shadows made me uncomfortable. “How was training with our delightful Amren?” Cassian’s attempt at humor told me all I needed to know. Even from Azriel’s slightly pained face, I knew Cassian wasn’t fooling either of us.

I straightened, smoothing my skirts. “What did Madja say?” 

Another pregnant pause. Cassian leaned his head back into his pillow. “Anything, Az?” 

Azriel glanced at Cassian. “No, Cass.” Cassian’s back muscles tightened and even with the thick layer of drush root, his face was strained to the point of bleeding red. His left wing easily retracted against his torso. His right wing shuddered a little like it would move but he made no coordinated movement. 

“I can’t move my wing, Nes,” he exhaled and his left wing relaxed. His right remained still. 

I squinted like that would help my ears hear what he had just told me. I couldn’t coincide the thoughts no matter how hard I tried. Cassian was the General of the Night Court forces. He fought multiple opponents at the same time and that was to  _ their  _ disadvantage. He had twin blades sheathed along his spine and he never wore the back of his breast plate because he was worried it would encumber his wing movement. He kept salt in his pocket because war camp food tasted bland. 

None of those images meshed with the picture of Cassian laying in bed, one wing motionless because a single joint had been lamed. 

“Madja said it would take time,” I said after the pause. 

“The nerve is damaged,” he replied, voice taught. I knew what that meant. I had read about it enough. There was only one central nerve that branched out from his spinal cord into the wing and innervated the tissue. When the joint was crushed, the nerve had been cut or damaged and the wing tissue past the first joint was completely cut off. The joint could have completely healed but the nerve dictated the movement and Cassian had none to show. 

Only after he spoke did he stop trying to see me over his shoulder, looking at the headboard of his bed. His hands were fisted in his pillow. Azriel continued to sit quietly and I felt an odd amount of anger towards the shadowsinger. He kept silent when he could have said  _ something.  _ But even I knew that was fruitless. What could you say? Cassian was saying the equivalent of his world, balanced on the health of his wings, had been forever changed. There was nothing Azriel or I could say to keep the turn his life had taken from coming to pass. 

Fate had taken the choice from either of us. Bitterness welled in my mouth along with blood, I had bitten my tongue too hard. Cassian had been walking me around Velaris a few weeks ago. The two of us danced around our future like a couple of hopefuls. It might have taken years longer for us to finally come together had his wings not been injured but it would have been worth the wait. He was worth the satisfaction of a long and drawn out courtship. It only took me too damn long to realize it and I wanted to take back all the ways I had pushed him away. We had that time  _ then  _ and we should have clung to it even if it was destined to end.

But instead Cassian had done as he always had and sacrificed a piece of himself that he wouldn’t get back this time. 

“Then...what would happen?” I asked quietly, sitting on the edge of Cassian’s bed and uncaring that Azriel was there to witness my modest amount of favoritism. Cassian kept still and didn’t reach for me, even though it was the perfect chance to draw me in. I bit back the disappointment, choosing to focus on him. Cassian didn’t reply. His cheeks were taut and he stared ahead but he didn’t speak. 

“Madja will have to clip his wings,” Azriel answered for Cassian. I glanced at Azriel like it was the first time I noticed him sitting there. 

“What? So soon? It’s been a couple of weeks,” I didn’t think I could go so long without breathing. I barely had time to digest the thoughts in my mind; they all flew by faster and faster. I was lucky my magic had already been released as if I had kept it stored up inside me, it would have easily snuck past my guard with how distracted my mind was. 

“Nothing will change tomorrow,” Cassian said quietly.

Azriel and I both stared long and hard at Cassian but he didn’t meet either of our gazes. I couldn’t tell him his actions were rushed because then I would have been giving him false hope. I couldn’t lie to him like that. I recognized what it was to accept reality, no matter how disappointing. 

But that didn’t stop my next half-hearted attempt. I needed to exhaust all options for him. He deserved to have every route thoroughly checked and checked again. “You haven’t seen any Dawn Court healer-” 

“Peregryn wings are different,” Cassian remained silent. Azriel had to answer me. 

“It’s better to get...to get it over with now,” Cassian sighed. 

Azriel glanced away. 

“No sulking from you,” Cassian grit out. 

“I did this to you,” Azriel replied, staring at the bumpy skin on his clasped hands.

Cassian dragged in a long sigh. “My decisions are my own, Az” Cassian shook his head. “And I can’t think of a better purpose for them than saving your clumsy ass.” 

Azriel huffed a laugh but I saw no mirth on his pale face. His eyes were squinted as he studied his hands in his lap. He kept his wings pulled in tight to him. It was no wonder the shadowsinger kept scarce, far from this room and it’s occupants. Cassian had become synonymous with guilt and shame for Azriel.

I understood the feeling. Some days I could hardly look at Feyre too. 

I nodded and kept nodding until my eyes stung. I didn’t try to hide my unshed tears from either lllyrian. If Cassian’s wounds were laid bare then so would mine. I felt his pain acutely. I slipped my hand over his but didn’t bother squeezing for assurances. I just needed to know he was here with me. That alone would assuage my worries, my need to see him healthy. 

I had meant what I said. Whether or not Cassian had wings and could fly was never my concern. I would see him no differently but that hardly mattered. Cassian would see himself differently and would likely not want to hear that I didn’t care or not if he had wings. Cassian’s destruction of himself would be his own doing. I couldn’t see Azriel or Rhysand changing their opinion of him, General of the Night Court legions or not, and that would be the most tragic part of it. He’d drown himself and we would have to watch. 

I knew I might as well have been talking about myself. A rueful smile tugged at my lips.  _ Yes, that is why we are so tangled up with each other. We share demons.  _ I wondered what demons Feyre shared with Rhysand. Or Elain with Lucien.

Azriel and I kept quiet vigil with Cassian while the sun set. The room darkened into an orange haze, finally cast into pitch black at nightfall. Nuala and Cerridwen never came in to check on us and for once, Rhysand and Feyre hadn’t winnowed to Velaris to visit. This death was for only us to witness and for us alone to see off into the dawn.

Only when Cassian fell asleep did I leave the bedside. He slept after Azriel handed him a heavy glass of what burned my nostrils. Azriel even had a glass himself. 

I had foolishly thought the routine I had built around Cassian would mean something, would have some impact. There was little my pathetic attempts at healing would do but I had something more inside me that I knew was not so weak, so ineffectual. I didn’t care that it had a mind of its own. The Cauldron had chosen me just as much as I had chosen it. If it could force it’s will over mine then tonight I would do the same. 

I went to my spot on Cassian’s great armchair and I opened the book on Illyrian physiology, to the image of the nerve that wrapped around the primary joint of their wings.  _ I didn’t have to create an orange _ , I reasoned to myself.  _ I don’t care if oranges exist or not.  _

One glance at Cassian and I knew I had determination enough. 

Azriel had relaxed enough that he might have been asleep but I didn’t know the shadowsinger. He might never sleep for all I knew. 

I walked around the span of Cassian’s wing to his injured joint and for the second time that day, slipped off my gloves. They always were ruined when I worked with my magic and since I never felt cold calling my power, I didn’t see any need to ruin yet another pair. 

When I placed my bare hand on Cassian’s wing, I was struck with two thoughts. The first was how impossibly soft the wing felt even after having been so brutally injured. The second was the bitter knowledge that Cassian didn’t wake up because he couldn’t feel my touch on his wing, as my hand rested past the joint. 

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s calm voice echoed in the room. I didn’t startle because he had spoken. I spooked because Cassian could have woken up. I glanced nervously at his still body on the bed but he barely twitched. I wanted to straighten out his hair, pull it back into a bun while he told me something about battle. 

_ How could I have pushed him away? _

I forced my eyes back towards Azriel. “Amren told me I needed direction.” 

Azriel’s eyes widened. “And you think directing your magic towards Cassian is what she meant?” Azriel didn’t whisper. His voice was low enough that there wasn’t a chance he’d wake Cassian. He also didn’t appear rattled, only struck. “You should wait till-”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should do when it comes to him,” I snapped back, my whisper coming out as a fine hiss. Azriel clicked his mouth shut, brows raising curiously at me. I straightened under the inspection I had brought on myself. Every hair on my body was raised. “I won’t wait till morning,” I said firmly. “I won’t give him hope in case I fail. I try tonight and if that doesn’t work, then that is final.”

Azriel studied me. As the longest we had ever spoken to each other, I was caught by the intensity in his eyes. “He wouldn’t blame you if you failed.” 

“I know that,” I glanced towards Cassian’s still form. This was the longest Cassian had slept unguarded throughout the night. If I had attempted this any other night, Cassian would have woken up by now. Though him remaining asleep served my purpose, it deepened my concern for him. “I’d blame myself.” 

It would have to be tonight. Cassian had no feeling in his wing. If I ruined it more, he would feel nothing and that was the best I could ask for. The best I deserved. 

Azriel stood and the darkness around him shifted. I hadn’t even notice his shadows expand like they had. In the night, they were invisible which served him more so. The entire room had been filled by his shadows without my noticing. Now that I saw how the shadows shifted, I was all too aware of their presence and how they neared when he did. “How do you know your magic can fix what Madja’s healing magic couldn’t?” He stood at my side, eyes fixed on the bandages wrapped over Cassian’s primary wing joint. 

“Madja can only heal what is already there; I can make the nerve completely new,” I said the words as if I had tried before. But I knew it had to be true. The Cauldron created everything, so could I. I’d wipe away all evidence of the damage and replace it with fresh tissue. I could already see the joint in my mind’s eye. 

This time, when I searched for my magic, it was me who did the tugging. It rested deep inside me and kept quiet, like it could hide from me. I reached deep within and yanked. I spared the pain inside me no thoughts. My magic would do this one task for me and I’d ask nothing more from it. I glanced at Cassian. The Cauldron had taken so much and now it was my turn. When my magic surfaced, Cassian twitched.  _ At least he wasn’t completely lost to the world, _ I thought sadly. 

I looked at Azriel expectantly while I undid the bandages. He must have been just as desperate as I was. There was no other explanation for his compliance in this. He should have been telling me to wait, to train. I believed logic controlled him and I could see now I was wrong. Logic, yes, and also devotion. “You’ll need to open the joint to me,” I told him, eyes going to the blade at his hip. I had no experience with them. If he refused me now, that would leave me with waiting or becoming even more reckless. 

He licked his lips, unsheathing the blade that glimmered iridescently in the scant moonlight. He looked back to me for guidance. It took one swipe of my finger to direct him and even less time for him to repeat the motion with his dagger. I appreciated the clinical distance Azriel displayed. We both needed to keep our heads about us and cringing would not do. 

The membrane split apart cleanly, peeling back from the tension in his wings to reveal the bloody mess of his joint. Already, I was picking out the veins and arteries before my eyes fell on the slightly necrotized tissue of his nerve. Soon, his entire wing would resemble that dark shade. 

I pressed my hand to the nerve, heedless of the sticky wet blood that coated my palm. His body temperature seeped into my hand. My magic rising made my skin tingle. The air began to crackle and I clenched down on the part of my magic that recklessly avoided my guidance. There would be no other choice here. Not tonight. 

I pulled the dead nerve from the joint quickly, having rotted it thoroughly. His wing was bleeding a little more heavily but neither Azriel or I commented. I dropped the piece of tissue onto the hardwood floors, hearing it  _ smack _ . I didn’t think about what would happen if it didn’t work. I only thought that tomorrow, Cassian would lose his wings and I could stop that from happening. 

I could give him something that wasn’t useless or damaged. All those times I had applied drush root or made him breakfast had been a poor substitute. Madja was perfectly capable of caring for him and Nuala or Cerridwen would have no problem bringing him meals. But I would give him back his wings and that gave me a reason to keep going forward. 

The sensation when my magic created was very different from when it destroyed. Destruction was release and ease of tension inside me. It was so easy and natural to see the end of my surroundings. Creation seized my stomach and crushed it, making me grit my teeth. It took effort and concentration to bring more into this world. 

I sewed up Cassian’s wing with a practiced hand that didn’t belong to me. It was too steady for the amount of blood. But my mind had long since faded away into a bleary exhaustion. Azriel’s worry finally showed. 

“Why did you agree to this?” I asked, watching his features for any incremental shift in the dim moonlight. 

He glanced back to the freshly bandaged joint. “Cassian never let anyone but you touch his wings, except Madja. I figured that means something.” I swallowed his words and their implications. If he realized it yet, it didn’t show. I hoped he would keep his mouth shut if that were the case. 


	108. Connect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Azriel and I stood still for several moments. In that short period of time I could see how different he and Cassian were. Azriel wasn’t as broad nor tall. His hair was cropped unevenly, shorter than Cassian’s but a knuckle’s length longer than Rhysand’s. All of their hair was still made of the black, untamed locks that came with their deep brown skin. But where Cassian’s usually flushed warm, Azriels’ was tempered by the purple shadows under his eyes. Eyes that gleamed hazel like his brother’s but instead of mimicking a fire burning, they were cold like metal. 

If Cassian had never been bedridden, I never would have noticed these traits. Azriel kept in Cassian’s shadow and I had a feeling that suited the male just fine. I had been quite comfortable to let Elain draw all eyes.

Something wet dripped from my nose and I pressed a finger to see blood staining my finger tips. I wiped away at it and reached for my gloves. Though I was still sweating, I pulled on my gloves in anticipation for when my magic would subside. “Did you repair it?” Azriel asked, eyes studying the wound seal slowly as Cassian’s natural healing ability took over. The nerve root was buried within the bloody mess and I couldn’t tell if it had worked at all. I had only burned away what was dead and recreated what had been. 

All in all, it had been too painless. 

I had only studied Illyrian physiology for the past couple of weeks. I should not have been able to summon my magic and direct it so flawlessly. Dread welled in my stomach. I could have just sealed a special type of poison inside of Cassian and hadn’t even thought about that possibility until his skin had resealed. My tongue felt thick and useless in my mouth. The Cauldron I knew did not create good things. It made monsters and what I had just done…

“I should not have done that,” I said. Magic tingled on my skin like a threat. 

Azriel started visibly, head recoiling. “What did you do?” his voice came out hard. He inched forward and though he wasn’t nearly as physically imposing as Cassian, his presence still threatened to swallow me. 

I shook my head. My skin was stinging from my abilities. Something was building again but my mind was escaping me. I couldn’t tear my concentration from his wing where a thin layer of skin had already formed. “I could have...that was not...what if it is wrong?” my words barely formed on my lips, barely even uttering them. I had to make a decision soon before whatever I had wrought had time to take effect. “Cut it out,” I turned to Azriel. “Now.” 

_ The Cauldron is a weapon and you used it against Cassian.  _ I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to process my fears as they came. My mind was being torn apart. I clasped hands to either side of my head as a child might but unable to handle the overwhelming emotion. More blood dribbled from my nose. Whispers began in the back of my mind. I could see both Azriel and the Cauldron; I usually only saw the Cauldron when I slept but now it was impossible to discern the two. 

“No.” Try as he might to maintain composure, he was unraveling and the proof was in the nervous flit of his eyes. 

Someone was shouting...no chanting, not near us, but with the Cauldron. The voice wasn’t Hybern’s. It was feminine and hoarse, like it had been at it for hours. “If you won’t, I will. I should not have done that. We can fix it but we have to act fast-”  
“Nesta, you’re not well,” his eyes had stopped moving around and instead fixated on me, on the blood dripping from my nose. He reached forward like I was about to collapse. His shadows began to crowd and the magic coating my skin sparked at the contact, a shower of orange and yellow lights erupted in the dark room.

“No. Don’t  _ touch  _ me,” I snapped and Azriel froze, eyes uncertain. If my magic was already beyond my control then it was best if I left. But not before I fixed whatever idiocy had possessed me to think I could help Cassian.  _ To think I could do that when what lived inside me only desired chaos _ , I reprimanded myself bitterly but nothing hurt worse than the thoughts of what Cassian would wake up to. He would wish for his only problem to be a lame wing. He never would want what I had given him. I had destroyed him and I’d done it believing it to be right. “I’m not in danger. He is. Now cut it out before it hurts him,” I held out a hand to Azriel. “If you won’t, I will.” The double vision I saw was making my head throb. Azriel’s face was superimposed over the Cauldron but I couldn’t focus on one or the other. 

“Nesta-” he shook his head, hand on the pommel of his knife. 

I bit my lip and knew I had torn skin. I nodded stiffly, turning to Cassian’s wing and the joint covered in red and fresh skin. The sight of the Cauldron with Cassian’s injury in my mind’s eye was enough to sicken me. “I’ll burn it out of him if I have to,” I raised a hand to his wing and never got the chance. Azriel’s hand grabbed my wrist, sending another fresh wave of sparks into the air but he didn’t wince. He yanked me hard and my fingertips fell just short of Cassian’s wing. Both my arms were pulled behind me, so awkwardly that my shoulder’s threatened to pop at the joints but Azriel held me still enough to keep them at the precipice. 

“I can’t let you burn him, Nesta,” Azriel grunted, undoubtedly feeling the strain of the magic that emanated from inside me. He twisted me to face him, eyes serious with concern as they studied my face. I knew from the wet spot on the chest of my dress that my nose bleed had grown considerably worse. Azriel’s wings flared suddenly while he attempted to keep the balance, ramming into the curtains next to us. “He hasn’t even woken up yet, you’re panicking because your instin-” 

I had enough of Azriel’s interference. I stopped struggling for as long as it took him to lower his guard. Our eyes were locked on one another. In a move I had never had the opportunity to use myself until then, I brought my knee straight into his groin and watched his face contort with little empathy. I’d apologize later. My mind and conscience had only enough room for Cassian at the moment. 

I reached out a glowing hand to Cassian’s wing, intent on removing my mistake before Azriel’s shadow seized my wrist. I had anticipated him being out for longer. 

I screeched at the direct clash of our magic; it wasn’t painful to me but repulsive. The Cauldron shook me from the inside like a ragdoll, threatening to escape if I didn’t do  _ something  _ about Azriel’s magic. The Cauldron wanted to take Azriel’s magic or use it. I could not allow either, despite how Azriel impeded my progress. 

“What are you two doing?” Cassian’s voice froze Azriel and I in place. It acted like a balm to my aggravated magic and I sighed out, puffs of orange light coming from my mouth. I looked to see Cassian squinting at us from his bed. His eyes lit on my blood-covered chin and dress and they widened. Some of his magic entered the air and I wondered how it would manifest without his siphons. Apparently, just as wild as mine. “What happened to you?” they moved from me to Azriel. “Get off her, Azriel.” His voice came out disbelieving, like he didn’t understand Azriel anymore. 

With as much speed and decorum as Azriel commanded, his shadows fell from my wrists and I stumbled a half-step forward. Cassian watched the movement, face grave on my face. I would have eagerly taken the distraction of his concern over admitting my actions against him. Taking in his honest and seeking eyes, self-hatred welled up inside me. I avoided his eyes after that, biting hard again on my inner cheek. I tasted more blood. I wrapped my arms around my waist, straightening as best I could while avoiding crumpling to the ground entirely. 

“I ask again…” he dragged out. I winced. “What is going on?” 

I swallowed which neither male in the room missed. Azriel sighed but it couldn’t be him to explain. It was my poison afterall. It would be me who earns his wrath and I felt the loss acutely. “I used my magic to replace the nerve in your wing,” I said to the dead quiet room. I kept my eyes trained on the floor. I could leave them when I was done but I wasn’t leaving without removing whatever I had given. My hands began to glow again, a violent orange that looked molten as a sunset. My eyes burned from how bright they got. “That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have and now it needs to come out.” Using my magic to create the nerve had eradicated the cold feeling that lived inside me. The small victory was not worth the loss I had incurred. 

“I helped her cut...cut into your wing,” Azriel admitted, standing beside me like we had both committed equal crimes. He didn’t understand that his small infraction was nothing in comparison to what I had done, but I was momentarily warmed by the camaraderie. I still wished he wouldn’t have stepped up. It would be worse for me to lose Cassian’s trust and cause further divide between the two, disrupting their trust too. But Azriel didn’t stay quiet. “And I was trying to stop her from removing the nerve. Cass, her instincts-”

“Are perfectly attuned to what my magic can and cannot do,” I shook my head, pressing a gloved hand to my nose and trying to wipe away the blood. I only succeeded in smearing it across my cheek. “It should come out. The sooner, the better. We’ve already lost enough time.” I stared at my feet. I belatedly realized I was wearing the cloak Cassian had bought for me, like I ever took it off. 

_ I didn’t want it to go this way,  _ I thought like a child. 

I wanted Cassian’s rage. The familiar passion the male so readily displayed all but vanished. The voice that came out was unrecognizable to me, “What?” My head snapped up to be sure it was he who had spoken. His eyes were incredulous, glancing between Azriel and I like we had spoken in a different language. His brows furrowed like he had never seen either of us before and we held swords up in the air above his head, prepared to swing. 

The Cauldron’s voice became louder. The female chanting had all but disappeared but was replaced by the whispering of the relic itself. “We don’t have time,” I croaked out, eyes going to his wing. 

“Her magic won’t hurt you, it would be a mistake-” 

“You don’t know that, you’re further endangering him.” 

Azriel shook his head firmly, eyes trained on mine while he crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that painfully reminded me of Cassian. He was, deceptively, just as immovable and stubborn as Cassian could be. Cassian’s silence was louder to me than both Azriel and I’s voices. I glared at him harder. “I am not. You’re letting your fear-driven instincts cloud your mind…” Azriel’s voice trailed off and eyes fixed above my head. 

My mouth popped open when I turned. 

Cassian’s right wing lifted in the air with it’s twin. Like a proud flag, they flapped together once, twice and sent soft sighs of air to caress my sweat-dampened skin. “You did it,” Cassian’s voice was low with awe and emotion. I heard him gulp appreciatively. All of us were entranced by the wings. They had risen back from the dead. If either of us breathed, they might vanish. 

Cassian’s face was stuck in shock that instantaneously twisted to pain, breaking the moment and the wonder in my eyes. He hissed and let his wings drop, a gust of air blowing back escaped hairs from my face. He stared at the bedsheets where his hands fisted, breathing hard. Azriel reached out but Cassian stopped him with a raised hand. We both froze again. 

I could have heard Cassian’s reply even if he had whispered it from the Human Realm. “I just need...practice,” he nodded appreciatively. A shit-eating grin greeted both Azriel and I when he raised his head to meet our worried gazes. But his eyes lit on mine and I wanted desperately to sink into them again, like I had before. 

But the whispering of the Cauldron, louder than ever before, told me this victory was a disguised tragedy. It would only take time for it to become clear how so. “This is wrong,” I uttered, watching the confusion creep into his features. “You shouldn’t have healed so quickly...the Cauldron is behind this. I never should have interfered-” 

Silence answered me.

“Nes, you can’t be serious.” 

“I know now it is too late to convince you and that is my doing,” I raised my hands and backed away. Cassian reached out a hand, inviting me closer when he should have been pushing me away. It would have been painful and ultimately kill me, yes, but he should have rid himself of me when he had the chance. I had tried to keep him at arm’s length but I had never been particularly strong; it had to be him. 

And once again our connection was reeling him closer to me, closer to certain destruction. 

I ducked my head, unable to look at him anymore. I left his room for the first time in weeks eagerly, descending all three flights of stairs as quick as my feet could carry me. I almost fell twice from my impaired vision. I needed an escape. I needed to go somewhere and stay gone. 

Amren’s form in the townhouse’s entrance blocked my hasty retreat. Confusion was traded quickly for anger from how calm the female reacted to me. She tilted her head to the side. “You have found your motivation.” I wiped furiously at the tears tracking down my cheek, undoubtedly smearing even more blood across my face. 

“What?” I bit out, attempting confidence despite how wretched I felt.

“You have found the motivation to pull magic from the Cauldron...to channel it through you,” her eyes trailed from my feet to my eyes. The silver clouds whirled with intrigue. Her lips curled into a feline smile. “The question is what you plan to do with that magic now?” 

“What do you mean?” I grit out, wondering why my magic didn’t launch itself at her like it normally did. 

She only smiled wider and jerked her chin towards the door. “Come. I’ll winnow us to my home.” I spared one last glance towards the stairwell. Regardless of what form my magic now took inside Cassian, I’d need Amren’s help to ensure I could control it, prevent it from rotting him. I followed without question. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I returned from Amren’s, I felt hollow. I wasn’t bitter or sad. I had been so tired for so long. The time I spent in Hybern’s cage had taken its toll on me. Always in the back of my mind had been the knowledge the Cauldron would never just leave me alone: no matter how hard I tried to suppress it inside me. The moment I had been cast into that Cauldron, fate had tied me to it. Now that I had awakened my connection to it, I could see just how linked I was with it. 

Instead of feeling resentful or anything, I felt relieved. I finally had answers to my questions. It was freeing. If I knew how it would end then there was no worries for right now. 

I walked up the stairs I had fled hours ago to Cassian’s room. The door swung open and I suppose it remaining unlocked was a small mercy. But I never should have expected Cassian to be the one to push me away. 

The first thing I noticed was Cassian wasn’t in bed. Azriel was gone. He sat where the doors to the outside were held wide open, his legs over the ledge. His wings proudly raised behind him. The right had been rebandaged. Madja must have done that. I walked over to join him, carefully lifting the hem of my dress so I didn’t topple right out the window. Not that it would kill me but I didn’t particularly want the day to end with another injury. I was clear minded for once and I didn’t want to lose the moment, even if it passed. 

“I never did get to see you fly.”

Cassian’s face was calm while he stared at Velaris. “You’ll get the chance now. Thanks to your magic,” he turned to face me and I stopped breathing with the heat in his eyes. I didn’t need him to keep me warm anymore but I still could appreciate it just as much. I had cleaned the blood off my face but he looked for traces anyway. Finding none and no other proof of injury, his eyes grew solemn. “You’re not going to run again, are you?” 

I offered a half-smile and he absorbed it. “For now.” 

“I can accept that.” 

We sat in companionable silence for as long as my patience held out. Which wasn’t very long at all. “Are you going to fly me somewhere or must I ask?”

“It’s nice to hear you ask,” he admitted, rising slowly from his perch. He offered me a hand and I easily slipped my bare hand into his. He squeezed my hand harder than he ever had before. I knew he wasn’t going to let go for a while in case I changed my mind about fleeing. I didn’t think I would ever again. He didn’t give me a chance to go back and I didn’t want him to. He scooped me up against his chest and stepped off the ledge, just to be caught by the gust of air filling the span of his wings. 


	109. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Cassian couldn’t fly for long; the fact that he was flying when a couple of hours ago he had trouble lifting his wings was a miracle alone. It was also a poignant reminder of how my magic had taken root. I had created a nerve, integrated and promoted it’s full recovery in his body with the experience of a child in handling magic. 

Amren had been right. I was a newborn given the ability to end worlds. It was a wonder Velaris hadn’t been made a city of ashes with how many times my magic sought to escape. It only took a moment of recklessness on my part for me to see that Amren was right. I needed her to train me. 

For the moment though, I leaned my head on Cassian’s shoulder while he flew us higher. The buildings of Velaris were toy sized below us. Each person was barely a fleck with limbs. I didn’t feel scared. I felt nice. The wind was playing with my hair and even when it cooled my skin, it was blissful. Salt from the ocean played on the gusts along with Cassian’s cedarwood smell. I barely had a bone in my body from how relaxed I was. Only because there was nowhere else to put it, I laid my left arm across Cassian’s shoulders. I was mindful of the rough treatment his back had gotten over the past few weeks. 

Cassian didn’t seem to mind or notice. I had the inkling that his attention was divided directly between me and his wings, but most of it favoring his wings. His hands on my ribs and thighs were tight but still. His eyes were far off. They didn’t search or burn with life. He was alone with his thoughts. For the first time, Cassian was as still as me and I relished the pensive look on his face.

He must have realized I was staring. Or felt the weight of my gaze. But true to form, I didn’t glance away when he met my stare. The smile he gave was too humble for me to believe it was a happy one. The wind whipped in my ears but I could hear him clearly as always. “You’re not scared of heights, I take it.” His voice was dry. I recalled never handing him water throughout the day. 

When I was human, I might have felt that fear. I never climbed trees like Feyre and being on the second-story of a house was not a frightening experience. Now that I was fae though most of those fears seemed secondary. I’d likely survive the drop and do more damage to the world around me then vice versa. But I offered him a half-smile for the second time that day and said, “You won’t drop me.” 

The answering grin was real and wild. That vigor I associated only with Cassian stoked the fire in his eyes until my magic felt cold in comparison. I drank it in, tilting my head back while it crawled through my body on a warpath. The smell of cedar was almost heady even in the open air. He was burning some magic to keep us airborne. I would have mentioned it had he not been clearly aiming for a building nestled in the mountains. 

A red stone palace overlooked Velaris and the majority of it was precariously nestled in the side of a looming mountain. Snow that barely blanketed the city weighed heavily on the roofs. I saw flurries and snow drifts coming off the mountain side to skitter past the open palace windows that boasted no glass. It was all exposed to the air, so much so that long curtains from the inside also fluttered in the chilly breeze. 

My eyes watered in the cold air but his didn’t. Another Illyrian trait that I had learned from my readings. Though winter was in full effect, my hands didn’t feel cold. My magic and Cassian’s were a pleasant buffer. “You’re not scared of heights. You do not get cold...you were born to be Illyrian,” his voice drifted in my ear. He knew I could hear him just as clearly and yet he spoke into my ear softly, lips barely grazing my ear lobe. 

The shiver that seized my muscles had nothing to do with the chill. His grip tightened on me steadily, attention leaving his wings to weigh heavily on me. “I was Made fae,” I said as a taunt. His eyes flicking to the curve of my ears told me he had never forgotten. 

He touched down on a patio that overlooked the city. The landing was light and weightless. I could feel how the currents of his magic aided him, also helping his wings to fold against his spine. They were fresh wounds that, with proper care and diligence, would renew perfectly. I’d ensure Cassian gave them their due. 

He didn’t move to release me. I fully embraced the touch after going so long resisting it.  _ All that time I had wasted when I could have had moments like this _ , I chastised.  _ No more of that.  _ I leaned back against his shoulder and felt the unsteady rise of his chest. He wasn’t wearing his heavy plate yet, just the brown pants and tunic that went underneath. Like he had been getting dressed to leave for the war front, unsure if he should completely ready himself, before I had found him. 

“What is this place?” I asked, eyes flitting carelessly over the stone walls. Even this palace favored the vaulted ceilings that gave away the Night Court’s history with the Illyrian legions. Towers of red stone met with black and white marble which was the only marker of opulence inside. Furniture was scarce and simple. Artwork was limited. The air itself lent the halls their richness. From the outside, the palace was completely open to the elements and I suspected if it had been night, I would have seen exactly why that was. 

“The House of Wind,” Cassian’s voice rumbled through my body and my toes curled in their slippers. I swayed in his arms with each step he took through the long hallways. One wall overlooked the city that glimmered in the hazy morning glow. We both had stayed up all night but Cassian must have been close to a deadman walking. He had stood toe-to-toe with losing his wings just last night and this morning, he had taken his first flight since getting injured. 

“Why did you bring me here?” I mumbled, one finger twirling his long hair around it. I hadn’t helped him pull it back earlier so all of it fell to the sides of his face. I eyed the stubble on his jaw; I had planned on helping him shave today. 

“Feyre warded me into Velaris,” he reminded me, smiling guiltily. “This is the only other place in Velaris I wanted to show you...as I’ve already shown you all my favorite places within the city. This is our true home...it has much more than the townhouse that you would enjoy,” I dissected each of his words for what remained unshared. 

“Where beyond Velaris would you take me?” I asked, voice going dry. Leaving Velaris while Hybern was still searching for me was impossible. I’d have to tell him someday the reason I stayed in Velaris so willingly; I did not relish the reaction I would get. The stubborn protectiveness was desirable to me. I wanted all of that without any of the concern and fear. I did not want Cassian to worry for me. 

“Home to the Illyrian mountains. I have a home there,” he provided.

“Your home? Is this not your home?” I decided I’d risk possible recapture to see the inside of Cassian’s home. In my mind, it looked a lot like the library I had called home in the Human Realm. I could already see the hard wood floors and fireplace, preferably adjacent bookshelves stacked with novels he coveted. I’d always kept my favorite books by my armchair for each access. 

“This is all of our home but it is Rhysand’s. Amren has her own. Mor favors a hole that she calls an apartment inside Velaris.” 

“And Azriel?” 

“Azriel only calls home where we are,” Azriel and I were more similar than I would ever have guessed. But I had the stipulation that my home should always have more books than I could ever hope to read. And preferably, a really comfortable chair. “He has claimed at least one room in all of our homes. Like how you and Elain have claimed one for yourselves at the townhouse.” We locked eyes. “Would you want your own home?” He was memorizing how I looked. His eyes were running up and down my profile, where my face rested on his shoulder. It was the most unguarded he had probably ever seen me. Not even my sisters saw me like this. But I was determined to remain engulfed by this moment with him, focusing only on him.

“Not at all.” In the glance that was shared between us, I communicated all my intentions. I didn’t need a home for myself. It would be empty, sad and cold. But if I could take a spot in his home, I’d be happy with that.

His voice came out dry, a little choked. “I like when your walls are not up, Nes.” 

“How do you know they aren’t up right now?” I dared raise an eyebrow. 

His eyes dragged up the column of my throat. His ears twitched in response to my thrumming pulse. He knew because I was consumed by the moment. No other thoughts distracted me from him and so all my responses were for him. I felt him just as acutely as he did me; I was living and breathing in that moment with him. 

He stopped walking and meeting my eyes, lowered his mouth to press against mine. Even if he didn’t hold me, I would never have sought escape. Our lips melded against one another, fitting perfectly. We were frozen and only the breeze against us reminded us that the moment was real. He pulled back from our chaste kiss and studied me once again. It fell to me to reach my free hand to his cheek and tilt my face towards his, kissing him back. I threaded my fingers through his hair to ensure he couldn’t pull away either. 

His lips were soft and questioning against mine. Nibbles and slight caresses of his tongue like hesitant queries. I could feel the wavering thoughts inside him wage war over what was right. Where he held me, he kept annoyingly still and I shifted in an attempt to rouse him to action. He only held me closer, tighter. “Stop hesitating,” I breathed against his lips, tightening my hold in his hair. Giving him permission that I was not going to run if he let me go and I was just as willing as he was seemed to shock him. 

I bit his lower lip with blunt teeth, pulling the lip towards me. “Are you sure-” the words came out ill-formed, his eyes searched mine. 

  
“I want you,” I bit down harder on his lip for emphasis. 

He straightened under the light reprimand. Having my approval, his fingers tightened at my thighs and sent waves of tight pleasure through my muscles. Magic sung inside me from the delight. Our next kiss was equal parts needy and content, breathing life into the next moment as much as we lived through the current one. He continued walking with purpose down the halls familiar to him, dawn light blinking in and out as we moved through the rooms. Both of his hands were trapped to hold me but they roamed my body as much as he dared. His fingers were splayed over the length of my rib cage and traced the curves of my waistline. 

One of my arms held his shoulder, mindful to his injuries while my other hand kept his lips on mine. Both of our mouths searched the other. His magic was seeping into me, making me shift with anticipation. Everywhere he touched me was hot and overly sensitive. My dress was too warm. I was glad I had left my gloves behind. Sweat dripped down my spine and Cassian’s nostrils flared, undoubtedly drinking in the scent of my exertion and excitement. His breath ghosted over my skin when he exhaled deeply. 

I curled against him, tender feelings of embarrassment welling inside me. I wanted this and him and yet I felt myself at odds with the reactions he provoked. In the moment, I admitted all the emotions I had felt for him and how long they had spent locked away inside me. But if I was just conceding my emotions, Cassian had been shouting them from the moment he met me. It had been me who denied myself this moment. He had never disguised his desire for me. It took me all this time to accept what I could no longer ignore.

Cassian kicked open and then closed a heavy wooden door at the end of, what felt like, an impossibly long hallway. I didn’t have to look at the room to know it was his bedroom here in the House of Wind. It smelled exactly like cedarwood and only slightly stale, like the scent of books, from not having been lived in too recently. 

Finally, he set me down slowly to the ground and I slid against his body. My dress rode up partially before falling heavily back to my feet. That nervousness I had felt before fled me. I should have felt it but I didn’t. I chose to breathe in his acceptance of me in that eternal moment; I had wasted time I could have spent with him and that urgency to live pushed me forward. Elicited new waves of confidence I had never felt before. The fire in his eyes as he watched urged me just as much. 

I raised my hand to the braided crown of my hair. His eyes followed. Tendrils of my hair had found ways to escape but the true length of it fell down when I pulled out the pins. It fell to my waistline. Cassian’s hand reached out to feel the hair between his fingers, eyes worshipping. “It’s soft,” he mumbled. 

I drew his gaze when I pulled the shawl from my shoulders, trading its warmth and protection for his. Each button of the high neck of my dress tilted his head a little lower, like his neck no longer could keep his chin level. That his knees might go weak with the sight of my bare skin kept my fingers working each small button. His face was mixed with hunger and desire. I felt powerful in a way that was completely divorced of my magic, my ties to the Cauldron. 

When my fingers trailed to the end of the buttons above my lower torso, Cassian unfroze. He pulled off his tunic in one fluid motion. I had seen his bare skin a million times before. I knew how soft the skin of his back was, how well muscled he was. My fingers twitched with the knowledge he would let me touch more. I wanted to trail my fingertips over every inch and memorize every imperfection. Seeing him bare again before me sent heady waves of my arousal through the air. 

He stepped forward. His hands went to the waist of my unbound dress. My breasts were more visible then they had ever been to him through the opening. His fingers fisted in the cloth and raised it slowly, helping to pull it off my body. He tossed it away before his gaze returned to heatedly cover my body. I wore no breast bindings. Only my slip over my waist and my high socks that kept my legs warm. 

His wings flared. He took a step forward. His hand reached out to trace a line from my bellybutton to the curve of my full breasts, heavy with desire. Another step and he forced me back one. He continued until I was pressed against his bed. His one hand laid flat over my stomach, thumb caressing the soft skin. Our eyes connected until they inevitably left to travel the expanse of newly bared skin. 

He picked me up by my thighs, softly depositing me back onto his bed. I left my knees bent, legs open. His gaze was half-lidded. Evidence of his arousal was prominent in the taught fabric of his trousers. I bit my lip, attempting to coat my dry throat. He leaned down, one knee coming to rest on the edge of the bed. He carefully removed my slippers and tossed them over his shoulder, a half-smile coming to his full lips. He slipped off my socks and skirt until I laid naked on the bed before him. I fought the instincts that told me to cover myself. Those instincts were from a frail human, long since gone, that told me to hide like I’d ever find anything but raw acceptance from the male in front of me. 

He kicked off his boots, his pants. Our eyes swallowed one another. I could scarcely breathe over the hitching in my lungs, my heart. Especially when his hand curiously brushed over the skin of my inner knee, parting my leg until a colder breeze brushed over my slit. His eyes traced the curve of my legs down to where they joined. I weeped evidence of my desire onto his bedsheet. He swallowed harshly, muscles in his throat and jaw tightening until his teeth protested. He knelt before me on the bed, the broad expanse of his torso and wings shielding me from the morning light. I called him forward by parting my legs; he fell onto his elbows above me, lips hovering over mine. Our eyes never left one another even when he entered me. Intimacy wasn’t foreign to us when we had long since done away with secrets.

I wasn’t sure if my magic had surfaced but his answering sigh told me enough of what he felt if it had. The muscles of my inner thighs spasmed from the intrusion and I sucked in a whimper. He paused all the same, hands roaming my skin like he’d never seen a female before. His lips nipped and kissed their way over my collarbone, seeking out my pleasure with patience. He moved just barely; I still had yet to adjust but the pain had given way. A bare moan escaped my parted lips and he watched me. He missed nothing, only rocking himself into me to a rhythm only the pair of us heard. His chest slid over mine, his weight on mine was comfortable. His hair tickled my forehead and ears. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and he pressed his lips to mine, tongue seeking entry that I gave willingly. His breaths coasted over my skin, leaving delightful goosebumps in their wake. He was so delicate and tender with me and meanwhile I was threatening to combust underneath him. My thighs tightened around his hips, attempting to bring me closer to the completion he was driving me towards. Cassian was so tender that he teased me more with his agonizingly careful thrusts. 

I wasn’t settling. I pressed a hand to the center of his chest, pushing him up onto his knees and I followed. It was good he preferred extravagantly sized beds. We needed space for when I guided him onto his back, rolling us to the side, and settling on top of him. I sighed out at the new angle. I devoured the approval in his heavy-lidded gaze. His hands sought out my hips, grabbing tightly. I set the pace I wanted from him and he met my movements eagerly. His muscles tensed delightfully beneath mine. My hands rested on his chest, nails slightly scraping and taunting the flesh. His tattoos seemed darker, more contrasted to his brown skin. 

I moved one of his hands from my waist to my breast, tilting my head back to moan lowly. His reserve was formidable but I wore it down until he was thrusting into me while seeking hands needed my flesh. His thumb circled my nipple in taunting movements, cupping them within his hands. He cursed lowly and I laughed in response, smile taking over my expression. I loved the sight of him beneath me, flushed just as I was and eyes wild in a haze only I gave him. He guided me onto him at a punishing pace and I relished the sweat that slid from my hairline, down my spine and coated my skin. Only my name came from his lips when he came and I wanted it that way for as long as it took for this damned world to end. 


	110. Reappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated this chapter to include Feyre's. I moved Nesta's to the next chapter to coincide with Cassian's since their plot is more separate than this chapter it kinda needs it's own chapter. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

"We will be returning to the Night Court tonight," I said at dinner with Helion. Elain was flushed next to me. We spent the entire day at the whimsy of her visions. Once they subsided finally, Elain didn't accept anything less than my undivided attention. I was only happy to oblige my mate. 

We had needed baths after and the evidence of our time together was slowly fading from her cheeks. The remaining evidence was hidden behind her long robes, colored in a faint pink. I realized a little too belatedly that she bruised easily though they healed quickly enough. Anything rougher than grabbing and there would be a trail left behind; I kept my touch light afterwards but Elain did her best to convince me she wasn't that fragile. 

I still treaded lightly.

Helion was dressed in the most clothes I had seen him in to date. He wore a long sleeved robe to match Elain’s but his cut off above his knees. On his chest was brown leather breastplate with a sun shape carved at the center. I wondered at the purpose for any armor on the High Lord. As a master of warding and spellcleaving, his style was all long ranged. Even arrows couldn’t pierce the magical shields he could raise. I guess Helion knew that too as he only wore a breast plate without any other armored pieces, but not forgetting his golden sun crown. 

Helion sat back in his chair, raising his chin and furrowing his brows. “You can control your visions?” he asked Elain, narrowing bright eyes on my mate in a way that grated my nerves. I could feel him summon his magic like he’d test her ability to convince himself. Having learned my lesson about pulling my magic from Elain, I drew on my magic as well. 

We had asked ourselves why countless times. Why was Elain a Seer? Why I’d been born Helion’s son in the Autumn Court? Why were we chosen as mates? All I knew was my newly Awakened Day Court magic allowed me to protect Elain from other magics and that was the strongest explanation yet. Helion’s eyes flashed towards mine. _Of course the male would know what I was doing_ , _father or not._

“No. I want to return,” Elain replied simply, taking a bite of her bread smeared with a lentil paste. She kept her eyes trained on her plate, careful not to let any emotion cross the content smile she wore as a mask. I was most surprised by Elain when her mask raised and lowered; quicker than I could keep track of, her emotions were hidden and revealed to a room at her leisure. 

While she wore the facade, my knowledge of her true emotions came entirely from the mating bond. I was pleased to know she never cut me off from her side of the bond. She knew she could keep her emotions and louder thoughts private but she let me in on that intimate knowledge. 

Helion’s lips pursed. He raised his fork that speared a grilled piece of tilapia, to his eyes for inspection. “You know my opinion on the matter. It is dangerous should outsiders know of your abilities...though I do not doubt Rhysand’s honor to look over your protection.” He brought the tilapia to his lips and chewed carefully.

My knuckles whitened on my fork. “I can protect Elain well enough. Rhysand’s honor is indisputable and just an added measure,” I grit out. Though Elain’s soft caress through the bond took some of the tension from my shoulders. 

Helion smiled, appraising my full reaction. “I’m sure you can. But if you’re in the Night Court, you’re largely subjected to his whimsy. If you mean to keep Elain’s abilities a secret, remaining here is to your best interest. As a Seer, this is her natural home.” Helion flourished a hand quickly as if to mimic Rhysand’s ‘whimsy’. His eyes glimmered with realization. “Also...nothing is indisputable about Rhysand’s honor. The male is the High Lord of the Night Court for a reason.” 

“And my sister is the Lady, would you care to clarify your implication?” Elain discarded her mask in favor of openly glaring at Helion. Helion opened his mouth but Elain cut him off, a pleased grin came across my face. “Feyre has my trust.” 

Helion sighed, eyes assessing the dinner spread before us. “I am sure she does and _is_ deserving of your trust. Rhysand is her mate for a reason though. There is both light and dark in the night sky. I trust both of them and yet I would put your safety over my feelings.” We sat in silence. Elain didn’t know Rhysand from before and I would never see that change. But I didn’t think the implication behind being the High Lord of the Night Court was lost on her either. She frowned at Helion anyway. 

There was a time I resented Rhysand most, more so than Amarantha. It felt like a betrayal of the highest degree that he served at Amarantha’s throne but I know that I had only picked the easiest person to be angry with. We all found terrible ways to survive while Amarantha ruled. Rhysand survived just as we had. Now that I have seen Velaris, I knew he must struggle to justify his own actions to even himself. 

I didn’t trust the High Lord then but I trusted the male I see today. “Rhysand won’t hurt Elain, Seer or no.” 

I expected Helion to argue, to declare Rhysand a vagrant and that he’d see Elain enslaved. Instead, Helion’s lips curved into what must have been a slightly proud smile. “I accept that.”

He cradled his liquor glass in his hand and swirled it, staring at the crystalline glass at the amber liquid inside. “But after you will return to the Day Court.” His words tilted as if to ask a question but it came out more like a confirmation. 

I fixed my tone of voice into aloofness. I had to stop giving away my emotions as I had been taught in the Spring Court. “And why would we?” If Helion was intent on playing, I was not going to let Elain and I be pawns in the game. I mimicked his posture and even sipped some liquor. 

I now knew why there was a divide between the Solar and Seasonal Courts. Helion had the same annoying habit as Rhysand in that they both could speak as indirectly as they pleased, slippery as fish. I bet Thesan had the same trait. I knew for a fact Tamlin was impossible at acting two-faced. If his actions were not in line with his thoughts, he had a moral dilemma. Unfortunately, Tamlin’s thoughts were not like the male I once knew. It goes without saying Beron also suffers from the bluntness and lack of tact. I didn’t know Kallias or Tarquin so well but I figured they acted much the same. 

As Tamlin’s previous right hand, I had acted much the same. I grew up in the Autumn Court too. Now that I sat across from Helion almost nightly, I was beginning to see the value in duplicity. In developing a mask as convincing as Elain’s slight smile that shielded my thoughts and emotions. 

“For Elain’s training of course,” Helion waved a hand towards my mate. He must know that gestures like that annoyed me because every chance he got to refer and point to her, he took. I didn’t know what part of my reaction gave my emotions away but Helion knew. I was sure of it by the knowing smile on his lips. 

“I suppose for sometime but we could work on her training in the Night Court as well,” I shrugged, placing a hand on Elain’s thigh. Her flesh was so warm I felt it through the robe; my mind doubled back to our mating bond to where Elain’s thoughts had taken a decidedly salacious turn. I could now finally place her flushed cheeks and I bit back a smile. I told myself I’d have to spend ample time finding the source of her arousal. 

But Elain’s mask was twice as convincing as mine as she spooned some lentils into her mouth, “My sisters are in the Night Court. It makes sense for me to be with them,” her eyes were rounded as she peered over her spoon at Helion, like her logic was infallible. With how simple her explanation, it practically was. 

“The Day Court is a Seer’s natural home.” 

“I was born human and Made fae. There is nothing natural about it. I think I shall grow where I choose,” Elain nodded succinctly. 

Helion’s golden eyes flicked between the two of us. He sighed, shaking his head. “Why do you resist staying here?”

_ Finally _ , I thought,  _ we can drop our pretense _ . I rose from the table and Elain stood with me, linking her arm in mine. Helion leaned forward at our motion, resting his elbows on his knees and eyes alight with interest. “While I find Rhysand’s honor indisputable-” I put purposeful emphasis on the last word, “ _ Yours  _ however, still remains to be decided.” 

Helion’s nostrils flared, losing the mask of indifference. His eyes burned and I dared to say Beron would have a difficult time matching their fury. But Helion let what consumed him touch us. He jerked his chin and sat back in the chair. Our eyes met before I winnowed Elain and I away. “You are my son, afterall, Lucien,” he shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips.

**Feyre:**

The other High Lords were not happy, to say the least, at the news from the Human Realm. You would have thought Morrigan was  _ their  _ Third in Command from how angry they were that she remained to guard over the artifacts while we waited on the Human Queen’s decision. Kallias still remained cold to any gesture of good faith from our Court and now that it was his mate’s friend who remained behind, he had even less reason to care for our side of the story. 

I empathized with the High Lord but I also wanted to throttle him too.

What salvaged the meeting was Tarquin speaking about the plan to grab his piece of the Book that Rhysand, him and I coined over dinner. Standing behind him, Cresseida looked less interested in the plan she had aided in making. I frowned but ignored it, choosing to focus on my mate’s poised yet relaxed seat at the table. I knew that standing behind Rhysand was supposed to have symbolic meaning, him being the High Lord and having a voice at the table; however, the decisions we made felt more  _ real  _ once I had taken my turn at the table. Sure, talking about retrieving the Book over dinner at the Summer Court was fine and easy but when all the High Lord’s spoke at these meetings, what was said was final. They were making decisions that could lose us the war and that was a weight on my shoulders I was still adjusting to. 

Rhysand seemed to barely notice it’s presence when he spoke here. Between us, in the privacy of our tent, was a different male from what everyone saw here. At the High Lord’s meeting, flaws and weaknesses were fatal. 

“We’d have to make the trip to the mouth of the Andros in roughly two and a half days,” Tarquin nodded. Adriata sat at the junction of the Andros and western ocean; we could travel down the river, underneath it using Tarquin’s abilities, but the movement would need to be slow to avoid detection. Also, Tarquin, Varian and Cresseida had only practiced on keeping themselves submerged. The group designated to retrieve the Book of Breathings would be at least double that. Before anyone could interrupt, Tarquin added, “And that accounts for returning to the surface to get more air.” 

As it turned out, fae  _ could  _ suffocate. 

“Eris can occupy Hybern’s ships,” High Lord Beron nodded, offering up his son in his stead. Though I would have jumped at any chance  _ not  _ to work with Beron, I didn’t think his eldest son and heir would be any better. 

Helion seemed to share my opinion if his expression was any indication. “I can allow us to get past Hybern’s wards undetected but I cannot offer protective wards if Hybern has the Cauldron and can weaponize it,” he nodded thoughtfully. No one yet knew about Nesta inadvertently muzzling the Cauldron. Every High Lord was under the impression Hybern had an endgame and was simply waiting for the opportunity to arise. That or Hybern was still struggling to keep the Cauldron under his control. I didn’t care what they believed. All that impacted them was that the Cauldron wasn’t being used against them or their people. As long as Nesta remained safe in Velaris, we didn’t need to share anymore with them.

“That spineless brat likely cannot handle the Cauldron’s power,” Beron spat at the table. “If we are lucky, it has burned him a few times for him to understand he should have let the power lay to rest.” 

“While I agree, I hardly think Hybern has any concept of what is good for him,” Kallias shook his head. “I believe he would take the Cauldron to guard Adriata if he has any tactical eye.” 

“He stopped kidnapping the humans and many fae,” Thesan remarked and was met with silence. He continued on anyway. “My troops in the Spring Court have recorded how many bodies they recovered. Normally, Hybern would vanish the humans or fae he wanted captured. Now they are all dead. Not a single town vanished. Hybern has either given up on making his immortal army or has this army.” Thesan kept his eyes forward.

I bit my lip.  _ Or Nesta conveniently took away his ability to do so.  _ I was secretly proud that Nesta had found a way to vex Hybern just as much as I or Rhysand had, if not more. I’d never tell her but I wanted Hybern to know. I wanted him to know the human he took and thought he could use has destroyed his master plan. 

All the thoughts I had surrounding my sisters being Made were confusing and kept me up at night. I detested how Hybern Made my sisters into fae but selfishly, I was thankful I’d never have to watch them die. Despite being Rhysand’s mate and having the inner circle, I didn’t want to be alone and without my sisters. I had gone long enough without them when I was at the Spring Court. There was a painful history between us three but I wanted them in my life anyway. I wanted to get to a day we could all have dinner together, without a war, and be able to grow past the scars that decorate our hearts. That might make me an emotional sadist but I accepted the consequences. 

“If Hybern had an immortal army, he would have marched on us by now. He must have come to some obstacle,” Helion replied, eyes meeting mine. He’d met Nesta once as a human.  _ He couldn’t know that Nesta… _ I asked Rhysand through the bond. 

_ He’s guessing. Nesta is safe in Velaris with Cassian and Azriel.  _ Rhysand’s assurances worked to ease my thundering pulse.

“Then let's move fast and get the pieces of the Book before he figures out how to get rid of that obstacle,” Tarquin nodded eagerly. “Adriata is heavily guarded. If we distract Hybern’s forces upriver, then we need to make it seem like Adriata wasn’t the goal.” 

“Then the havoc created needs to be equally large. It cannot be left to one fae,” Kallias turned back to Beron. “Would you allow all your sons to aid?” 

“They would do it without question,” Beron nodded stiffly.  _ Like they would have a choice. _

“I will go as well. We should march troops to make it believable.” 

“All High Lords should commit a couple of legions.” 

“Even between Cresseida, Varian and I cannot travel that many without draining our magic,” Tarquin interjected, glancing back at his cousins. 

“You don’t need to move our legions in secret,” Rhysand shook his head. Rhysand opened his mind to me and I looked in curiously to see his plan. “Let one letter be captured that makes them believe we are moving  _ on  _ Adriata. Hybern will move his fleet the second he can to destroy our armies. In the meantime, Tarquin can lead a special force to Adriata to reclaim the Book. I suggest Cresseida and Varian guide a separate force to help in attacking Hybern’s fleet.” 

“Why have a separate force?” Viviane turned cold eyes on my mate, still not happy with the Night Court. Once again, I was taking significant issue with the looks he received. I placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder in a moment of weakness. Tarquin followed the gesture and he offered me an approving smile at my protectiveness. 

Rhysand continued on as if Viviane had smiled at him. “When Cresseida and Varian reveal they traveled underneath the Andros, Hybern will believe he is witnessing the full effect of our deception. He won’t dream that we’d use the same tactic to bypass his patrols to get to Adriata.” I loved my mate’s tactical mind. I loved the cunning and intrigue. He was perceptive and thoughtful; all he got from me in a way of approval was a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. 

“If that is the case, then we will need to ensure the group I lead is small. I’ll need to control the Andros by myself and I don’t enjoy the prospect of having members drown before we arrive,” Tarquin nodded at Rhysand’s explanation. 

“Won’t we be revealing our plan with Cresseida and Varian spouting out from the bottom of the Andros?” Viviane raised her brows incredulously. 

Beron snorted imperiously, looking down his nose at Viviane, despite that she stood while he sat. “Ladies are invited as a courtesy; Kallias, you should keep yours in your camp if she cannot control herself.” Viviane huffed, pursing her lips. 

“I, personally, value honest criticism, Beron. Perhaps you would too if the Lady Juliette were able to attend these meetings,” Rhysand sounded almost bored but his eyes flashed towards Beron in taunt. Viviane stiffened but ultimately nodded in affirmation of Rhysand’s words. Beron’s shoulders tightened up immediately. Because I couldn’t resist, I discreetly glanced towards Helion to see the male looking more bored than anyone else at the table. It was hard to tell if he heard or not by how relaxed he appeared. Having gotten used to facades, I dared to say Helion wore the most impressive one of them all. “However, I can relate to why the Lady would value her time apart from you,” Rhysand finished up to let the insult ring through the silent tent. 

Beron’s low seething voice answered the consuming silence. “Lady Juliette doesn’t belong at these meetings, her opinion having no matter.” From his voice alone, Beron was near combustion. His russet eyes were living fire and his hair brightened too. His eyes moved past my mate to land on me and a cruel, thin-lipped sneer formed. “But I should expect nothing less than for Amarantha’s whore to value the opinion of other whores.” 

Both Rhysand and Kallias’s answering snarl deafened my ears; I only caught the tail-end of Tarquin’s shout, “That is out of line, Beron. Leave if you cannot keep civil.” Rhysand’s head moved between Beron and Tarquin with equal force. Beron’s protest still sitting on his lips, Tarquin turned back to my mate. His eyes flicking to mine before saying, “Rhysand, I ask the same of you as well.” My lips almost curled back in disgust and rage at Beron. My magic stayed put deep inside me and yet I felt the piece tied to the Autumn Court more acutely. I valued the tactical use of my fire magic and yet it made me closer to that  _ thing _ . 

Rhysand’s anger made the bond tense, physically tugging me closer to him. If I had no self-restraint, I would have crawled into his lap. In order to keep my conflicted body from trembling due to the pressure, I whispered,  _ We can cut out his tongue later. He has nothing to protect. He doesn’t know of sacrifice.  _

A dark laugh met my words.  _ I can think of a few things of his I’d use to teach him the meaning of the word.  _ I bit my inner cheek to keep from smiling, letting my mental presence caress his. Rhysand straightened at the table like he felt the slightest bit sorry for his words. 

“Very well. Shall we move on then?” he dipped his chin and glanced back towards the table. 

Not giving Beron time to rebuttal, Tarquin nodded in return. “We shall need to make Adriata appear as if undisturbed. The guards nearest where the Book is kept will need to be replaced.”

Tamlin took his cue. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, a sour look permanently plastered on his face for all these meetings. He rarely participated in the meetings and only committed troops on his own terms. He was shielded from criticism since it was his Court we actively were retaking and surveying the extent of Hybern’s damage. “I can only shapeshift as one person. Not several.” I sighed at his attitude. 

Knowing where this conversation would lead, I held my breath. Rhysand replied as if he had been asked. “We can get rid of Hybern’s guards directly between the group and the Book. I can target the surrounding guards with illusions to make it seem like they still stand. But if you can take the form of one of them, we can make sure no guards get too suspicious.” 

Tamlin squared his shoulder to glare openly at Rhysand. The room sat in suspense for as long as it took Tamlin to come to a decision. I don’t think anyone missed Tamlin’s glance at me. Rhysand’s responding anger heated the bond. “Fine,” Tamlin ground out, relieving the tautness in several High Lord’s shoulders. 

In a way that was characteristic of Thesan’s naive-appearing manner, he spoke up into the stress-laced air. “Then we should limit our excursions into the Spring Court. To make it seem like we are preparing for something larger.” His brows were furrowed together, pensiveness seemed to be his main emotion. 

“I disagree. We should make an obvious attempt at distraction soon in the Spring Court,” Rhysand’s focus left Tamlin’s face to respond to Thesan. His motion was too quick to pass as anything other than agitation. Tamlin continued to glower and I knew from Rhysand’s end of the bond, he was just as ready to launch over the table. My hand on Rhysand’s shoulder had transformed from assuring to near restraining. 

Thesan dipped his head, consenting to Rhysand’s words. “I will work with Kallias to ensure a letter is captured from one of their messenger foxes.”

Helion clapped his hands together, shocking me with the abrupt noise. The male grinned at all the High Lords. “Now that we can play nice, I have dinner to get to,” his words cleaved through the strain in the room. He no sooner had jumped from his chair and winnowed out the tent did all the other High Lord’s follow suit. 

Like a spell was lifted, Rhysand rose quickly from his seat, so fast that I jumped back to avoid the legs of his chair. Rhysand took my hand, heedless, and pulled me all the way back to our shared tent in the Night Court’s camp. Once in the privacy it offered, he raised a sound barrier in the same instant his hands came to cup my cheeks. He bowed his forehead against mine, eyes clenched shut and breathing deeply. His wings unfolded from his magic to quickly expand and then retreat towards his back. I covered his hands with mine own, closing my eyes to seek him through the bond. 

_ I hate how I opened you up to their attack _ . 

_ They insulted you as well _ , I replied. Their cruel nickname was nothing more than a cheap wound they eagerly stabbed at when there was nothing else to pick apart. 

_ Yes but I goaded Beron about his wife and that made it open season on my mate. I should have known better and I’m...I’m sorry _ , his voice was full of aggravation. 

_ Beron cannot insult me. I’d have to take his words seriously for that to happen,  _ Rhysand’s violet eyes opened to see my wry smile. He smiled in return.  _ I don’t care what he says or does. If he commits his forces to the War, that’s all I need from the male.  _

_ You need  _ nothing  _ from that male _ , Rhysand growled, his face falling into my hair to breathe deeply.

_ Of course not _ ,  _ my overprotective mate _ , I laughed and Rhysand’s eyes lightened. A grin played on his lips that he pressed against mine. His hands were already working underneath my armor, unbuckling the heavy plate. The piece fell with a loud crash but neither of us cared. Rhysand’s had pushed up my shirt above my breasts and sliced through the breast bindings I wore. He held my breast, thumb taunting my nipple mercilessly while his tongue conquered my mouth. My hands were thrust into his hair. 

Our motions were more rushed than ever. A primal need to be near and to shut away everything else took over us. If we didn’t close the distance between each other, we risked the wrath of our combined instincts. His kisses were just as demanding as mine. We wanted the same things:  _ closer. more. now.  _ I took Rhysand’s lobe between my teeth while his hands worked the ties of my belt. My one hand already freed and stroked his cock. 

When he bowed his head to take my nipple into his mouth, he froze. Even through the bond, I felt his magic shudder. “What is it?” I asked, gasping for air. 

He straightened, a voice completely devoid of amusement stared back at me. None of the playfulness in my mate’s face existed any longer. “It’s Velaris. Lucien and Elain have returned.” 

I matched my mate’s sobriety instantly. As much as I wanted to throw Rhysand on the bed and fuck him until we both could assure ourselves that outside opinions didn’t matter, we had a larger responsibility. My instincts also pulled me to see Elain and Lucien myself, to know they were safe with my own eyes. “Then we should greet them.” 


	111. Reform

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, thought I'd split between Nesta and Cassian's POV but I liked Cassian's viewpoint more. So now you get what is effectively 2 chapters rolled into one :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

It was hours before Nesta or I spoke. There was little to say that we couldn’t communicate through looks. Only moans and gasps passed from our lips and I drank them in. I had never focused on one person so intensely and for so long. Every movement, gesture and sound she made was absorbed and catalogued for later. 

I felt giddy, like I had been let in on the world’s biggest secret. 

Nesta’s head fell back to thump against the wall but she hardly noticed, or cared for that matter. I thrusted into her, her knees hooked over the crook of my elbows and back pressed flush against the wall across my bed. Her eyes were pressed shut and lips slightly parted, still looking plump from earlier kisses. I studied her harder than any book, from the small thatch of curls between her thighs to the sharp curve of her collarbone. Every explicit detail I could gather, I did. Her facial expressions before she climaxed and how her left inner thigh twitched tellingly beforehand. Her hair had become darker when soaked by her sweat and mine. It hugged the curves of her spine and breasts, dangling well past her waist. 

Attempting to be tender with her hadn’t worked so well. If anything, it roused her anger and irritation that she let me in on through narrowed glares and thin lipped frowns. Some of my carefulness had been for the limitations of my still healing back. As if Nesta had known this and taken care of the residual scars herself, the tension in my back muscles fell away until all that was left was the newness of being on my feet once more. Being on my feet, slamming Nesta into a wall repeatedly  _ and  _ with my wings held aloft behind me. 

I was still unsure if this had been a lucid dream. My wings flaring told me it was real. The sounds Nesta made told me it was real because for all the times I imagined moans, nothing compared to hearing it in person. Or seeing the full impact of her flush that, to my delight, extended to her wonderfully shaped breasts. 

As if she could sense my thoughts wandering, her nails dragged over my shoulder. She was insatiable and apparently so was I. We had barely slept in between. Collapsing as we were, we’d nap quickly and once one of us was awake, the other soon followed. I could hear her stomach growl. Mine was threatening to cave in. If I didn’t get water, I’d black out the next time I came for sure. 

But there was an ethereal glow to Nesta’s sweat soaked skin that drew me back in. Her back arched when she cried out and I thought no archer’s bow could match the perfection of that curve. Even with her eyes half-lidded and consumed by pleasure, she regarded me with the same cunning eyes of steel. 

Her one hand wove through my hair. If she could have managed to comb through it before, I’d be surprised if that happened again. I trailed kisses up her neck and her hold on my hair tightened. I took in an earlobe and her nails bit into my scalp. Her soft moans filled what the sound of our skin sliding against each other didn’t. It was a struggle not to bite harder when I came. Her breath hitched and it was on me quicker, no build up at all. 

I was right about our exhaustion levels. I nearly blacked out and I forced my instincts down long enough to slide down to the floor, onto my back with Nesta straddling me. Our pants filled my ears. Nesta laid down to my chest, placing a gentle hand over my chest and relaxing into my hold. I attempted to drag a hand through her hair but my hand was caught by the tangled mess. 

She sighed out contentedly as if I hadn’t just tugged her head backwards. 

“I need food, Nes,” I croaked out, staring at the stone ceiling dazedly. 

“Leaving isn’t an option,” she replied, just as tiredly. 

I huffed a laugh. Flickering pleasure over her possessiveness tickled me.  _ Should have been born Illyrian _ , I mused. Her leg twitched over mine, demonstrating how we were glued to each other by fluids and sweat. “I can call for food. Preference?” I pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Anything and everything.” 

“Ravenous?” I grinned. 

“I’d say impatient is more accurate,” she lifted off my chest to stare into my eyes, showing all her iron will. Her crooked smile was devious and near sadistic. I breathed in deeply, finding the strength to pick her up and myself from the floor. She readily wrapped her legs back around my waist, elbows balanced on my shoulders. I barked out a laugh at her renewing excitement that filled the air and my grin stayed large and half-mad. 

I was overfull of emotion. Too many things had changed in the past few days and I could hardly believe the turn of luck and fate. 

I pressed my hand against the wall where the servant’s call signals were embedded. A momentary flare of my magic and I had called for food, purposefully leaving it vague. The good thing about nearly consuming half a kitchen on a daily basis was that they knew to send a heaping portion of anything on hand. Nesta sighed out in relief. 

I walked us to my adjoined bath and turned the handle. The best quality of the House of Wind was that it used water runoff, pooled in cisterns and heated by boilers to deliver hot water instantly. No where else in Velaris or the Night Court boasted the same aqueducts. The Sidra is the source of water for the city below but it didn’t run through houses like it could up here. Pure magic to me. 

Steam filled room as hot water poured into the stone tub, carved from a single solid black piece of rock. Nesta tensed in my arms, all muscles going rigid around me when they should have stayed relaxed like melted butter. I sat on the edge of the tub with her on my lap. Her neck muscles tightened, eyes staring at the seemingly depthless water from the black stone. “I...I don’t...take baths,” she swallowed, voice dry. Her hair curtained to hide her face. 

“That’s alright,” I said softly, drawing her close as she retreated further and further away. I cupped her face against my chest and focused on the hot puffs of breath against my skin. “Here...I’ll just-” I was going to sit her on the tub’s edge but, sensing she was going to be displaced, tightened around me. I smiled anyway and accepted that Nesta, for once, was not going anywhere. 

I wrapped one arm around her waist and stretched my other arm across the tub, using my wings to balance out the lunge, to the ceramic basin for washing my face and hands. One finger hooked the bowl’s edge and with a hard jerk, it was in my grasp. I tossed the cold water out and used it to scoop the near boiling water from the tub. It wasn’t easy to maneuver while Nesta clung and each tremble made me kick myself harder. 

_ Yes Cassian, suggest a bath,  _ I mentally reprimanded myself.

I slowly poured the scalding water over her shoulder. Her long hair darkened in the water and looked like the muddy water of a stream which I had never thought much of until it became the color of her hair. She took the bar of soap from the edge of my tub and pressed it to her nose. “It has no smell,” she mused, wiping down my chest after dipping the bar in the bath water. 

“Scented soaps are a little strong to my nose,” it wasn’t an Illyrian thing. Scent was important. I could find Nesta in a crowd by hers alone, same now with her sweat and excitement. Illyrian’s still appreciated scented candles or soaps if they weren’t too strong; I hated scented soaps. They all smelt cloying to me. 

But Nesta’s scent was an appreciable balance of smells. Normally, she was birch and burning wood. Her excitement was honey and ginger; her anger, pepper; and her happiness, lemon. I contented myself with the memories of meals by campfires when I was around her. 

She doused me in the bathwater and worked the new water across my chest. “And where are these from?” she asked, dragging a finger across my tattoos. Unlike Rhysand’s tattoos that curled like smoke or waves, mine were harshly drawn: a series of angles and interlocking symbols. His were a blend of the fae and Illyrian ancient languages; his recalled the long lineage of his mother and father. Mine were formed only from the Illyrian glyphs but in places, the same glyph repeated continuously:  _ rootless.  _ The single glyph, like a chair balanced only on it’s hindlegs, was worked in between various curves. The tattoo was traditionally supposed to boast the Illyrian’s training and rise to manhood, especially their lineage. As I had none, I felt it was necessary to declare that; otherwise, someone might get the idea I am ashamed. 

Azriel had lineage and skills in surplus to tattoo himself with and yet he rejected both. His tattoos were unique to him alone. He designed them himself and they mimicked his shadows, almost like smoke. They had no meaning, no ancient stories and he preferred it that way. 

“The Illyrian Blood Rite...when Illyrians fight to claim manhood,” I began, running my soapy hand over her arm. Her skin was porcelain. No marks and it was pale, untouched by any sunlight. It contrasted sharply with my brown skin, flecked with scars. “When you’re ready to fight, your wings are bound and you have to make it to the sacred mountain, Ramiel, in a week’s time. You’re not given weapons or siphons...you need to survive. Some Illyrian’s kill each other during it either for food, better weapons or to end a feud.” 

“What does it mean?” she asked, eyes intent while one finger finding the glyph meaning  _ rootless.  _

“Tradition dictates the tattoos mark an Illyrian’s battle prowess and lineage,” I recited the words told to us, before we were thrown into the Rite. Memories flashed behind my eyes of that time so long ago. Ice and snow had never felt so cold as on those mountains. It had everything to do with being separated from Rhysand and Azriel. When I had been orphaned, I knew isolation well. Being thrust back into that world of loneliness had been worse after just finding brothers of my own had worsened the blow. 

She snorted, bringing me from my musings. “Of course they are boastful,” she shook her head as she washed me down. “And what is your lineage?”

I swallowed and looked down, seeing nothing. “I have none.” 

Nesta shrugged. “Neither do I.” So simply, she disregarded the entire line of questioning. It barely mattered. She didn’t consider it, never had. “That doesn’t explain where you got your audacity though.” 

“Somethings you simply get over winning too many fights,” I grinned up at her and she studied me. Before I could stop myself, I blundered ahead and said, “Winning you over hasn’t helped my ego either.” 

She straightened but resumed washing my hair anyway. “You haven’t won anything by gaining me,” she said, voice low. 

I caught her hands. When I didn’t let go, her eyes slid to mine. There was no sorrow in them, only tired acceptance. It made the steel color of her eyes seem all the more stronger. I pressed a kiss to her knuckles, not leaving her eyes for a moment. “Yes. I have.” She didn’t speak but nodded, something softening in her eyes.

The scent of food made both our stomachs growl loudly. “The servants must have brought dinner,” she said wryly. We both poured hot water over our heads to rid ourselves of the suds. After she toweled off, I jumped at the opportunity and grabbed some of my longer tunics for her to wear. Nesta had already seated herself on my bed, which was a mess from our incessant sex, and sat before three trays of food. Each one had many small porcelain bowls with silver lids. She had her towel wrapped around her chest but with her long legs, it seemed pathetically small. 

I tossed my tunic at her, in hopes she wouldn’t question and just wear it, but she held it aloft for her inspection. I stood in wait, holding my towel in place around my hips. I swallowed while she looked over the gray tunic made of finely spun woo. She flicked her eyes to me, a small smile curling her lips. In swift movements, she undid her towel and slipped the tunic over her head before throwing her towel back at me. It smelled strongly of honey and I clutched it instinctually. 

Only when I donned my own tunic and crawled onto the bed to join her did I drop her towel to the floor. She picked up a dish and opened it to reveal stewed vegetables. I could smell the spice from where I sat. Shaking her head, she handed me the bowl. “Here is your ridiculously spicy dinner.” I barely took notice of the food in hand. I simply tipped it back into my mouth, ignoring that it was far too hot to eat and swallowing without chewing just to silence my stomach. She watched my show with mild amusement, eyebrows raised and a soft smile playing at her lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought at one point Nesta would turn to me and say she’d like to return to the townhouse. We would have to leave this room at some point despite how much I dreaded it. I expected that my need to see the battlefield alongside Rhysand and Azriel would be pushing me out the door but that didn’t happen. Not yet. 

Holding Nesta near, I was concerned with losing her closeness. If she walked through the door, I didn’t know if she would remember me. It sounded ridiculous but it was my fear anyway. At anypoint, this would end and I feared what that meant for us. Would she want to see me again? Had all the time she spent caring for me while injured just been for this moment? 

Her head, cradled against my chest, rubbed into my skin. “You’re not sleeping.” 

“No,” I answered, glancing at her curiously.  _ Had my heartbeat given it away? How embarrassing.  _

She didn’t speak for a while. We sat in the moonlit room that smelled strongly of our sweat. Nesta had the blankets in a death grip and her legs squeezed mine between them. “Are you thinking about leaving?”

“Yes,” it was true; I just didn’t admit the other half of my thoughts. The half that told me Nesta would eat my heart whole and I’d let her. 

“I knew healing your wings would bring you back to the war front,” she blew out a breath. I almost joined her.  _ She wanted me to stay.  _

“Why did you do it?” she glanced up at me, blue eyes catching the light. They were solemn. I knew why she had done it. She didn’t care if I flew or not but she knew that who I was could not be separated from my wings. She didn’t have to answer me. I knew. “What made you change your mind? That you could leave your piece of magic in my wings?” when I concentrated hard, I believed I could tell the difference between the tissue Nesta’s magic had and had not touched. In reality, nothing seemed to have changed.

“Amren,” she shrugged, nestling back into the crook of my arm. 

“I’ll have to thank the viper,” I never thought I’d have a reason to. 

The one aspect about Rhysand speaking mind-to-mind that I never adjusted to was the suddenness of it. One moment, my thoughts are uninterrupted and my own. The next, his voice filled my head and I had to resituate myself, remind me of my location and what I was doing. He acted like an intrusive thought that threw me from my track. Like right then, Rhysand picked to call on me.  _ Elain and Lucien have returned.  _

He must have heard from Azriel about my wings, then. If that were the case, he must also know Nesta is with me. 

I let out a tired sigh. I wanted to spend the night with Nesta. My petulant inner child threw a tantrum that I wouldn’t be able to. “Your sister and Lucien have returned to Velaris,” I said quietly. 

“Elain?” Nesta shot up to stare me down. Oddly, her cheeks heated. 

I nodded. “The one and only.” 

She smiled. “I want to see Elain.” Her intensity had returned, and with it was a fluctuation in her magic. 

I knew she would, which was why I had already slipped off the bed. “Find your dress then,” I pointed to the haphazardly tossed clothes littering the floor. Nesta and I took turns picking through the clothes and to my surprise, she didn’t mention that our clothes appeared rumpled and like we had thrown them off to have sex.  _ This would be good.  _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flight returning was colder and more brisk than the flight to the House of Wind. My magic helped my wings to move and stay warm. Nesta clung to me and took all the body heat I offered but I knew with her magic, she didn’t need it. She still buried her face into my neck anyway. Her hair, thrown into a single braid down her back, tickled at my nose. 

The townhouse looked warm and inviting from the outside with a fresh coat of snow on it. I knew better than to think the inside was a tearful reunion. I still could hardly believe Lucien had winnowed straight out of Velaris. I still didn’t think he could be Helion’s son but I had to admit it was a marked improvement than being Beron’s. 

I touched down outside, setting Nesta down carefully in the ankle-deep snow. She barely took stock of herself before striding into the house. I followed, already feeling the tension. I couldn’t help but grin. I’d missed Lucien. 

Feyre’s voice was hard when Nesta and I turned into the dinning room. Elain and Lucien stood in front of us, backs to us and facing the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. Both of which sat with matching faces of displeasure. Amren and Azriel had already taken up spots around the table. They both gave Elain and Lucien fairly cold stares. Well, Azriel’s was just cold. Amren’s glower could have cut out a male’s heart. “You winnow straight from Velaris. No note. No explanation. What were we to think?” Feyre’s furrowed brows belied her worry for them. 

Lucien stood relatively tall. I glared at his proud posture. Elain had her arm linked through his. Nesta tugged me around them so we could stand at their sides. Azriel flicked an eyebrow up, a questioning gaze coming from him.  _ Oh boy.  _

“Exactly what recklessness possessed you to winnow out of Velaris, knowing the city is warded and is a secret?” Feyre asked, eyes assessing Lucien’s silent figure. Her exasperation was apparent. If this was any glimpse into the future for Feyre as a mother, then their kid would have no doubts over how loved they were. Even Rhysand, with no attachment to Lucien, kept his wrath confined to his clenched fists visible on the table. If Lucien had been a stranger, I doubt we would have settled this with a conversation. 

But Rhysand, annoyingly perceptive, glanced over at me. He cocked an eyebrow, picking up on what Feyre had yet to.  _ You didn’t bathe long enough, idiot,  _ he cackled. I bristled, almost giving our conversation away. For how I had teased Rhysand and Feyre, I deserved nothing less. But that had been for a purpose. Newly mated pairs were bundles of anxious energy that were especially vulnerable to release on a war front. I had to make sure Rhysand or Feyre wouldn't do something stupid while still under the effects of their untamed instincts. 

“You risked the entire city with your stupidity,” Amren cocked an eyebrow, obviously deeming Feyre’s scolding not severe enough. She wore a long grey tunic, shapeless but it shimmered with a million small diamonds. “This city is worth more than your life so justification is not needed, it’s  _ required _ ,” she narrowed her eyes at the pair. Elain visibly stiffened at her comment, tightening her hold on Lucien's arm. 

“I took Elain to the Day Court,” Lucien replied steadily. I narrowed my eyes at the impetuous male.  _ Bow your head, stupid or Amren is going to sever it.  _ Now was not the time for him to remain that proud male he was when he first showed up at the war camp with a human Elain, Nesta and a troop of refugees behind him. High Lord's son or not, he had risked every life in Velaris and not a single member at the table was likely ever to let him forget it.

That would explain the robes they wore and gold ornaments. In a room full of dark colors and black, the pair stood in white and pink. Despite how similar Lucien appeared to Helion, with the same jaw and intense eyes, I had thought he looked equally suited to the Night Court black. I didn't think that Lucien though had gone to see his father to reconnect with lost family. I could only picture Lucien much like I did myself. Rootless. 

He glanced at Elain.  _ Ah. Mates.  _ Elain looked back at Rhysand and Feyre. “I am a Seer.” Every head snapped to attention, spines going rigid. No one spoke. Even Rhysand looked caught off guard, eyes assessing Elain with a renewed curiosity. “Lucien took me to the Day Court so we could learn more about it.” 

Feyre sat back in her chair. 

Amren stared at her cup of blood, looking positively vexed. “One sister robs the Cauldron blind. The other is the first Seer in centuries. Feyre, if you were going to make good on inheriting the other Courts, you have the power to do it.” Rhysand tensed. 

“I don’t want the other Courts,” Feyre shook her head. 

“Pity. Those High Lord’s meetings would go by so much quicker,” Amren shrugged. 

“Are you trying to  _ tempt  _ me into taking their Courts?” Feyre asked incredulously. Rhysand also regarded Amren with a curious stare, daring the immortal to deny it. The two of them mirrored the other. With each passing day, they adopted each other’s behaviors until Feyre even cocked her head like Rhysand. Rhysand sometimes gave the same sheepish smile when he knew he was guilty. 

“All I am saying is that if you have concerns over your abilities becoming known, you can rest easy. No one could touch you,” she downed the rest of her blood, setting the cup down on the table with a  _ clack _ . “Your sisters wouldn’t allow it.” 

Nesta cocked an eyebrow at Amren. Elain appeared confused. “That isn’t really how my visions come.” 

“Then maybe you do have something to worry about,” Amren said, uncaring that all her words were tightening the coil inside Rhysand a little tighter. I could now glimpse his fear. The anxiety he must have for the discovery of Feyre’s magic while all the High Lord’s needed to be united. 

Feyre had magic inside of her that the High Lords would eagerly reclaim, given the chance. Nesta had raw magic at her fingertips; the equally powerful ability to create and destroy inside one body. If she could fix my wing while still untrained, then it was only a matter of training sessions before she could perform even more impressive feats. If the High Lord’s knew, the last of my worries would be if Nesta had a mate. It would be if Nesta was safe  _ anywhere.  _ At the very least, they’d want their heirs from her bloodline. 

I ground my teeth together so hard they could have cracked. Every hair on my body raised at the thought and it made me see red. Nesta questioned me with a raised eyebrow. I gave a tense shrug because that was all my rigid muscles would allow. 

“This is why you did not want to wait,” Feyre nodded considerately, eyes downcast. 

“We didn’t mean to make you worry. I didn’t think...I didn’t realize that passing through the wards had endangered the city,” Lucien replied, finally appearing properly scolded. 

“I assume then Helion knows then that you’re a Seer,” Rhysand spoke up to Elain. 

She nodded. “He does.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Lucien said again, eyes trained on Feyre’s hurt expression. 

“I know,” she nodded, staring down at her and Rhysand’s intertwined fingers. I knew Feyre was positively incapable of holding her anger with someone she loved. Nesta and Elain were proof of that fact. 

Rhysand smiled at his soft mate. But when he looked back to Lucien, his careless facade dropped to reveal the ruthless face of the Night Court. The cold eyes that had ensured Velaris’s safety and secrecy for centuries. “I consider myself somewhat merciful, I can see where your instincts made you reckless,” he stressed the word  _ somewhat.  _ Rising slowly from his chair with Feyre, he glanced at Lucien. “However, if you do risk Velaris again, I’ll revise my temperament on the matter. Do you understand?” 

Lucien nodded severely. 

Rhysand’s intense demeanor was swept away with a smile. “Good. You’ve missed quite a deal.” 

Lucien glanced at me and gave me a weary, testing-the-waters smile. “I think that’s an understatement.” Any of my previous ire was swept away and I found myself helpless to prevent my returning grin. 


	112. Familiarize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

I thought I would have woken when Elain left our bed. I didn’t think she was a master of stealth but my mate had ways of surprising me. I could feel her content happiness through the bond and that was all that kept my panic from taking over. When I woke without her, I felt no desire to stay in bed. Usually, if Elain were there, I had a hard time leaving her. The combination of her small hands graspsing my tunic and the smell of honeysuckle had a way of making me stay far longer than normal. I wanted to linger when I was around her which was a change of pace for me. I had lived a far stretch of my life without the vibrancy that Elain experienced everyday. Through her eyes, I saw what I had been missing. 

I found her in the kitchen. Elain stood covered in flour with Nuala and Cerridwen. Whatever dress she had chosen for herself, though Night Court in style, had been completely obscured by the heavy layer of flour. Her hair, having been tied back to pour curls down her neck, was the only piece of her that hadn’t been powdered white. Nuala and Cerridwen were spotless and looked up at me, mildly guilty expressions on their normally flat faces. 

Elain, however, looked entirely too pleased with herself. “We are making biscuits,” she nodded. She didn't cringe when her fingernails were embedded with dirt. She was possibly the only fae I knew who didn't care if their hands were sticky from honey or jam. It shouldn't have surprised me she barely noted the new layer she acquired.

“And wearing them too,” I smiled. 

“Cassian is banished from the kitchen from here on out,” she waved a hand to the living room where Cassian sat relaxed in a chaise lounge. He had a mug of a steaming drink perched on his lap, his wings expanding and retracting with his breaths. He took a ginger sip, sighing out in bliss. His one ankle was crossed over the other knee. He was the picture of a male at ease, content with the world and all it's dealings. 

He was also covered from head to toe in flour as well. Whatever magic used within the townhouse kept the sofa relatively clean. The mess had been effectively confined to Cassian and my mate. Nesta sat spotless on the other end of the chair with a book in her lap. Though when I looked over, her eyes flicked up at me to return to her book. A small, playful smile on her lips. 

I suddenly had the feeling the flour spill wasn’t entirely Cassian’s fault.

Elain’s hand swiping flour across my cheek brought my attention back to her. “When did you get up?” I asked dazedly. “I didn’t hear you go.” I knew eyes followed us but when it came to Elain, I found it hard to notice or care. If I had to describe what the mating bond felt like, the only thing that came to mind was a flickering light. It caught my attention in all situations and I could find it if I looked hard enough. Of course, Elain could never have been described as lacking draw. 

“Cerridwen got me. She is a shadowwraith,” she provided helpfully. “Did you know that she can move without making a noise? I can’t even hear her heartbeat.” 

“Makes the best spies,” Azriel said, coming into the room. 

Elain nodded like she often thought about the different fae populations and their usefulness. I wondered if her visions made it necessary for her to. I noted to myself I’d have to begin introducing her to Prythian history. She’d need it to make sense of her visions. “But she likes baking,” Elain nodded, sitting out a cast iron tray of little raw biscuits that Nuala scooped up and sat above a wrack in the fireplace. “And they don’t need oven mits. They don’t feel the temperature,” I knew what Elain was telling me. She might not have studied these peoples but I had; yet none of what I learned sounded as intriguing until she said it herself. I suddenly thought of my favorite book, on the Eight Day War between the Winter and Dawn Court, and how it would sound to me if she read it aloud. Elain turned back to Nuala, “The other tray is about to burn.” 

Nuala produced from the hearth a tray of perfectly golden biscuits. To which Cassian and Azriel were quick to swipe from. “I’m glad you made extra,” Cassian nodded appreciatively, second biscuit en route to his mouth. When he bit into it, his eyes rolled back into his head dramatically; the whites of his eyes and flour-coated skin momentarily made him a ghost. 

I reached for one myself. “If Feyre and Rhysand don’t come soon, they’ll miss breakfast.” As much as I loved having Elain to myself in the Day Court, I enjoyed watching her with our little makeshift family just as much. She smacked Cassian’s hand with a wooden spoon when he took Azriel’s and then attempted to grab another. She moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, almost in a practiced dance with Nuala and Cerridwen. 

“They’re gone,” Cassian shook his head, finally timing his grab right to dodge Elain’s swipe. 

“Gone?” I straightened. “I thought Rhysand said I had much to catch up on.” He made it clear that much had happened during my time in the Day Court. I had expected to hear how Cassian had managed to heal his wings so remarkably quick. Or why Nesta had forgone her gloves. 

Instead, Rhysand had told me of the plan concocted to get the Book of Breathings back from Tarquin; how Morrigan had been left on the continent to await the Human Queen’s decision. The night had gotten late and Elain and I grew tired with it so we retired. Rhysand, though, appeared wide awake. Feyre as well. I expected as much from the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. I wondered why they weren’t nocturnal. 

But I had left the conversation, asking to hear more on the morrow and Rhysand had nodded lazily in promise. I wasn’t so delusional as to think I had been entirely forgiven by the male but he was attempting to, at least for the sake of his mate. Feyre, much to my surprise, had adopted  _ me  _ as apart of her family as well. 

It took me a while to figure out but I came to the conclusion during one of her verbal lashings. She looked furious, as to be expected, but there was an added edge to her words. Her eyes flicked constantly, reassessing Elain and I. Her intertwined hand with Rhysand’s was clenched tight. Even her scent had becomed weighed down by something bitter.  _ She had been worried.  _

Then it all clicked. Feyre viewed me as her family and by vanishing I had brought her back to the night when Hybern had kidnapped us. At first, I felt assured that I had made the right decision. I didn’t have any doubts. I had done what I did for Elain and I knew that my intentions were right. Feyre created that doubt. Elain was my mate but these people were my family. I couldn’t make decisions like my actions only pertained to myself. I wasn’t Court-less anymore. 

I thought at breakfast we would discuss more but I was beginning to see how the Court had changed since we left.

Azriel bristled. 

Cassian’s eyes dragged from his brother to mine. “Rhysand believes we  _ all  _ have to catch up before we can rejoin the war front.” 

“What have you missed?” I looked him up and down, trying not to stare too long at his wings. They were hard to miss; I never had this issue before. 

“Training,” Cassian grumbled. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Training was Cassian’s way of phrasing  _ grueling torture.  _

It first started off with Azriel sweeping me off my feet. He didn’t say anything. Just picked me up like I was groceries and with barely a glance at my stunned face, or Elain’s, he took to the skies. My head snapped back from the acceleration. Azriel simply kept his head level, eyes squinted against the bright morning sun. I barely noticed his shadows and in hindsight, I should have taken the time to inspect them. I didn't know when I'd next get the chance.

A few flaps of his wings and we were well above the tallest spires in Velaris. A few more and we were easily approaching the mountain peaks overlooking the secret city. It was incredible that they could become airborne with one flap of their wings. The force of one downward swoop and our feet were off the ground. Peregryn wings were much less muscular and usually, they needed a few practice beats or a running start to take to the skies. 

Cassian was not too far away, catching up to us. He flew just above us and when form flew parallel to Azriel’s, his head snapped down to showcase a wild grin on his face.Cassian had to shout to reach my ears. “I expected you to be more terrified. Are fae no longer afraid of heights?” he quipped, shaking his head. 

Azriel scoffed. 

“I suspect if Azriel wanted to drop me, he already would have,” I reasoned, not bothering to raise my voice. Illyrian’s needed to have superior hearing in order to speak while flying when the wind roared in my ears. 

My suspicions were confirmed when Cassian laughed, practically shouting into the sky. “You underestimate your importance to Feyre, again, fox.” His words and their implication had me glancing back at Azriel. 

“If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t need to drop you from the sky,” he said tonelessly with only the slightest inflection to show he was joking. 

Training began when we landed on the roof. The palace was made of stone and carved into the mountainside; where the training ring began, the roof cut into the mountainside to provide shelter from onlookers and the ferocious wind that threatened to blow me off the side. 

Once we landed, Cassian flared his wings while Azriel tossed me to the ground. Cassian raised a brow. “This should be fun.” 

I straightened anyway. I had trained before with Cassian and Azriel but how neither of them began to bark orders, I was wondering who would. The males appeared just as agitated as I felt. “Not for you,” Azriel raised a brow at Cassian. “Feyre said this is payback.” 

“Payback?” Cassian’s head swung back to face his brother. “What? I teach the brat how to win every fight and she wants to punish me?” he pressed both hands to his armored chest in mock surprise. He could strut all he wanted. I knew Cassian adored Feyre like a little sister and that all his teasings couldn’t take away from that. 

“I think you forget I taught her as well,” Azriel cocked his head. I stared blankly while they bickered. I had known Feyre longer than both Cassian and Azriel, even Rhysand, and yet I had never taught her anything. Not in the Spring Court and not Under the Mountain. I’d never given her a single lesson in all that time. Yet, she still called me family just the same when these two had been teaching her what she needed all along. I licked my lips to avoid biting them.

Azriel’s voice brought me back. “But Feyre said  _ you shouldn’t be too tired to train since you had weeks to rest _ ,” he clicked his jaw at the end as if to add injury. I had no idea what Azriel meant but Cassian sure as hell did. Cassian’s eyes were so wide and round, they could have made a good impression of Elain when she was startled. Even on his brown skin I could see the crawling flush stemming from his armor. “You weren’t exactly subtle and I think Feyre has been waiting for the right moment for revenge,” Azriel shrugged. 

His next statement clarified the topic. My mouth popped open. Even in the middle of Feyre’s lashing last night, Cassian and Nesta’s mixed scent had dominated the room in less than a moment. I had watched for recognition from Feyre but she kept her mask raised. It seemed she missed nothing. That still meant I had no idea as to the significance of Feyre’s words. 

Cassian guffawed, crossing his arms over his chest. The flush had yet to disappear and even Azriel had a hard time holding back his grin at Cassian’s obvious discomfort. “Let’s see who gets revenge then, huh? Where is that female?” He tossed his head around in attempt to sniff her out. 

“ _ That  _ female won’t be joining us today. She asked me to step in,” we all turned to see the creature from the night before, Amren, ascending from a staircase across the ring. Her eyes only brightened the longer Cassian and Azriel stood frozen. She stalked closer, sizing us up. 

She wasn’t dressed to train. She wore a fine grey shirt that cut off above her bellybutton with red stones embellishing the trim. Her pants were similar in fashion. Her wrists were adorned with, what must have been, over one hundred silver bangles each. They clinked and swished as she strode to the center of the ring, small slippers on her tiny feet. “Fox.” It was a wonder how that nickname followed me. 

My eyes snapped to hers, made of smoke and fog. Depthless. No iris or pupil and yet I knew she was studying me just as surely as I did her. I couldn’t smell her. There was no heartbeat. After meeting her yesterday, I spent the night combing my brain for all I knew of Prythian’s peoples. Nothing came close to what she was. The only other explanation was from the books I had read on lore. She was a living myth and it made me regret never taking the tales more seriously. 

“I understand you are a fair bit sharper than these two winged idiots,” she said, eyes somehow trailing over me. She sounded disbelieving and I cringed. I hadn't exactly given her a reason to think otherwise. 

“Drake,” Cassian scoffed back. Amren took no note. Her focus was entirely on me. 

If Cassian was made for a battlefield, she was made to reap the souls lost there. She was unnatural. Powerful and burning bright like the Cauldron on the night Nesta and Elain had been Made. “So far, you have not impressed. I would do your best to change my mind,” she dipped her chin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amren made no qualms about jumping right into training by having us all spar simultaneously. When she thought we were taking the fight too slowly, she would enter the spar herself. With a few carefully placed knicks, we were back to attempting murder each other. She knew how to add encouragement, I gave her that. 

Any sloppy movements or rushed attacks, she ruthlessly critiqued. Magic was strictly forbidden. The one time I had instinctually drawn on mine to ward off Cassian and Azriel’s combined attack, she had taken her own weapon from the rack and rushed me. I defended nobly until she stepped within my range of motion, heedless that I was bringing my own weapon down on her. A deft hand caught my wrist and all motion ceased. There was no moving my arm while she held it. Her free hand brought the flat of her sword against my calf in the same spot five times in total. If I thought about my calf, it hurt. 

She would watch until an obvious winner could be declared. That usually involved one to be hit hard enough to draw blood and the remaining two to be forced into a wrestling match. I had been choked out enough throughout the day to earn blue bruises around my neck by the end of it. Cassian ruthlessly taunted me that I didn’t guard my back enough. It came naturally for them to do so. I never thought I had been left so open until Cassian repeatedly proved it. 

Azriel, however, won more times than Cassian or I. If it came down to a wrestling match, which it usually did, Azriel would pin my hips and then twist my arm until it came close to dislocation. Just when I felt the joint begin to yield, did he finally let up. 

Only when I had pushed my body three times as far as my limits went did Amren cease training for the remainder of the day. She had spent the last half hour whacking us in various places that only Azriel had managed to block four times and Cassian, twice. She examined our blood and sweat stained forms and smiled. She tossed her wooden sword to the ground, watching it clang noisily before declaring, “We are done for the day. I have training with Nesta scheduled.” 

I sat back on my heels and ended up dropping onto my ass. “What?” I huffed. 

Amren paused before she disappeared down the stairs. She glanced at Cassian. I had missed a lot and my tiredness from training made me more irritable about that fact. I knew I partly deserved it. Life didn’t stop because I had left but I felt the anxiety whispering I needed to catch up or risk being left behind. “I’ll see you all for dinner.” 

“Wait, dinner?” Cassian perked up but Amren had already disappeared down the stairs.

“Is this related to what Amren meant by robbing the Cauldron?” I turned to Cassian. His hair had done a noble job of staying pinned back in a bun but a few sweaty strands framed his cheeks. Though I felt like shit, Cassian looked more alive than ever. His eyes took in Velaris and he blew out a breath like we had just come back from a very relaxed run. He had that habit that almost became annoying when I couldn’t feel past my knees. “What exactly did Nesta get from the Cauldron?” 

I wasn’t surprised by Cassian’s stiffened posture. He relaxed it when he looked at me sitting on the floor. I didn’t blame him. There was every reason for him to feel protective over Nesta, just as long as he remembered I protected her first. What did catch me off guard was Azriel’s head perking up, studying the two of us. 

** Cassian wiped a hand across his forehead tiredly, crouching down next to me. His wings steadied him while he knelt down besides me. They were untouched, better than new. My eyes kept getting drawn back to them like I was being tugged to inspect them.  _ Look here. Look here.  _ “Who knows? We’ll find out when we eat.” **


	113. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys are wondering, I am not trying to ignore you. It's just I ~can't~ trust myself anymore not to comment/reply without spoiling the plot. I'm terrible. I'm like the friend who tells you what your gift is before I ever give it to you. What fun is that? None. I gotta let you guys unwrap this one all on your own. :) pls forgive
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

It was hard to pick single reasons for why I loved Feyre. All my reasons usually fell into long lists and I collected them. I never had a collection before. Azriel collected coins. Cassian collected furniture, though his collection, due to its nature, was significantly smaller and took longer to actually term a collection. 

I was proud to say I was collecting reasons for why I loved Feyre. If that made me cheesy and a terrible sap, so be it.

Currently, the reason was her preposterously large smile for someone who just spent the entire day hacking into the Spring Court. I was beginning to think Feyre was only this happy when she was obscenely gross. The smell coming off of her was worse than a corpse after a week in the humid Summer Court. She had slipped while fighting one of Hybern’s Captains and her entire braid was dunked in mud that hardened to grey on her hair. That combined with the blood spatter from puncturing his femoral while using the simple move I had taught her to escape attackers, back when all we had between us was the bargain and shared trauma. Her shining armor was completely obscured. The silver scales on her shoulder that I used to find her quickly on the field were also covered which prompted my frown.

_If there ever came a day I needed to find her and her propensity for mud interfered…_

But on top of that mess, I smelt the hint of her blood. “You’re injured?” I asked while we walked through the war camp. 

“I don’t remember it happening but something hit my thigh,” she shrugged, pointing to her black pants. I searched but found no blood, only caked mud and fabric mixed with _more_ blood stains. She pulled my arm to stop me before she reached down and scraped off the dirt. One large chunk of mud fell off and beneath it, the fabric was torn and a bright red gash glimmered against the sparse clean skin surrounding it. “Maybe an arrow,” she shrugged, doing so caused the wound to leak a little more blood. 

I took to one knee, heedless that we were surrounded by my legions, and inspected the cut. In the silence, birds chirped in the surrounding foliage. The Spring Court, I found, when it wasn’t occupied by Hybern or a certain High Lord could be charming. I kept this to myself. 

“Rhysand,” she laughed, her embarrassment through the bond was endearing. “You aren’t winning any points here, prick,” she shook her head, arching a delicate eyebrow. 

I raised the sound barrier around us immediately. Throughout the day, we had been debating back and forth through our bond. With how distracted we were it was a wonder Hybern hadn’t found the opportunity to kill us yet. Made me wonder how hard he was actually trying to. All I had to do was look at the sketch resembling Feyre to remind myself that Hybern was trying very hard. 

He only had failed repeatedly because he never knew where any of us would be. Somedays, the Night Court didn’t have a single soldier reconquering Spring Court land. A single legion never covered the same ground twice which was Cassian’s idea. It kept my soldiers on their toes. They never had the chance to grow comfortable with the terrain. As long as we kept rotating, not only among the different regions but also with which Court would be fighting on any given day, Feyre was as safe as ever. They couldn’t get messengers out because every skirmish we had was over before it started and there was the strict policy of no survivors. If one of Hybern’s soldiers did escape, we retreated. _That_ ambush-based tactic was courtesy of Hybern himself. _We can retreat into the darkness too, bastard._

One day, we'd reconquer enough territory that there would be no where for Hybern to retreat to. All that would be left was him and that Cauldron. Every day we took more land back, I reminded myself of this.

“Feyre, you know Tarquin cannot take us both,” I reasoned, looking up at her. Tarquin had confirmed he could travel with a maximum of three others for a couple of hours at a time. Kallias had scoffed when he reported such a small number. Tarquin had met the High Lord of Winter with a glare as cold as the offending male’s Court. It was an exhaustive amount of magic to shape the Andros. Three was enough for our purposes. 

Tarquin would get the Book. Helion would get us through the wards. Tamlin would take the place of guards we needed to slaughter and I’d ensure no one’s mind ever got suspicious. My daemati abilities blended with my Night Court power to the point one was redundant. 

The power given to me by birth allowed me to create illusions that could consume a person whole. With dreams and nightmares, I could change a person’s reality with ease. Not entirely useful on a battlefield when I couldn’t differentiate between friend and foe but it had it’s uses. The ability was only strengthened by my daemati side that allowed me to peer into another’s mind and see what they feared, loved and denied. That made the illusions convincing and altogether impossible to escape. 

And Feyre shared both of these powers. She favored the Night Court ability to make illusions more so, only ever having entered my mind and Cassian’s that one night eons ago. She painted visions that were wrought with emotion and passion, a true dreamer. Her artistic background further served this power of hers. When she strived to make them realistic, it was impossible to tell the difference between what was real and not. I could see where the visions began and ended but only because I knew my magic well. Anyone else would be hopelessly lost in the world my mate could form with barely a second thought. 

I put that down as another reason why I loved my mate. 

She pursed her lips. “I know but...I don’t think we should separate.” 

My hand on her calf tightened. “Not for long.” 

“Four High Lords going off on their own sounds awfully familiar and if I recall correctly, that didn’t end well,” she glared, lips thinning out. I knew it was possible for a fae to get mad at their mate. My parents had been proof that a fae could feel the whole range of emotion when it came to each other, regardless of their mated status. I was glad though, with Feyre, our mating bond served to temper her anger with me. 

I narrowed my gaze. “Hybern tricked us then. He was a step ahead. We won’t make the same mistake.” 

“That’s how traps are supposed to work, Rhysand. I’ve hunted before. I know the prey isn’t supposed to see the walls closing in on them until they are already choking,” she shook her head, _tsking_. 

I found her use of the past tense for hunting ironic. If any had seen my mate on the battlefield, they would immediately know she was the huntress and anyone she sought was her prey. She hadn’t taken up the bow and arrow but I made a note to get her one as a gift for Starfall. 

I rose to my feet, drawing her close. You would have thought staring up at me, she would have become less intimidating but that didn’t happen with Feyre. She was only encouraged by the added challenge. I brushed a hair back from her face and suppressed the cringe when my hand came back sticky. She smirked. “I will return to you, mate. I will _always_ come back to you.” My thumb hooked her sword belt and tugged her closer until our breastplates bumped one another’s. I bent my forehead until ours touched and our eyes studied each other’s. Even under all that dirt, I smelled the lilac. 

Her lilac was different from the lilacs in the Spring Court. Hers was sweeter, almost like a fruit, and less earthy. I was beginning to think I had misplaced the source of her smell. I would start looking for flowers that were native to the Night Court. 

She lifted her chin and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. She sighed blissfully after. When I opened my eyes, hers were hard and staring back into mine. “You think plying me with cute words will soften me,” she whispered, though the sound barrier made it unnecessary. “But I admit, I will not feel safe until this war is over.” 

I breathed out in relief. “Then lets escape for the night. We are having dinner at home,” I took in my mate’s growing smile with no small amount of pleasure. When she was really excited, her grin got almost as big and goofy as Cassian’s. 

“What’s the occasion?” she raised a brow. 

“We’ll all be in one place finally,” I shrugged. 

“But Morrigan-”

“Can winnow back for one night, don’t you think?” her smile grew until it nearly enveloped half her face. Her shining teeth were on full display, eyes squinted with glee. _There it is._

If any of the other High Lords found out, there would be hell to pay. Mor wasn’t supposed to leave her post but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Once Elain and Lucien had come back, I knew we would only have a matter of moments with each other and I seized them greedily. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” she asked, threading her hand into mine. 

_An interruption._

“Rhysand. Feyre.” 

I turned. Even my happiness over having made a tentative friend in another High Lord was seeming more like a mistake by the minute. _Who needs allies anyway,_ I grumbled. But that was the life of a High Lord. Duty came first. As romantic as it would be to whisk Feyre away and ignore Tarquin’s approaching form, it would only hurt us further. Sometimes, duty could be bent, like Mor winnowing back for a dinner tonight, but this moment was not one of those times. 

“Tarquin,” Feyre smiled back tightly in a strained greeting. She didn’t move away from me even as he approached and I found her confidence in our proximity even more alluring. I loved that she proudly displayed her affection for me in choice moments like this one. Something inside me was purring. 

I raised an eyebrow at the young High Lord. I didn’t want to encourage him to stay longer and I knew I’d regret it if I was outright rude. 

“I wanted to practice before we attempted to retrieve the Book. I don’t want there to be any mistakes,” he said, glancing between us. He had gone with us into the Spring Court today and had already changed into casual Summer clothes. He wore the characteristic blue skirt and left his chest bare, even though the Summer Court had gotten brisker in the winter. A stray shirtless male was one thing; a stray shirtless male that worked with my mate was another. I was beginning to think of giving him a tunic just to fix the irritation. “I can get Helion to cooperate but I think Tamlin would be a challenge. I was going to ask if you and Lady Feyre would be interested.” 

I found it hard to begrudge him when he was acting so damn well meaning. Even his bright blue eyes were hopeful like a childling's and I couldn't stay annoyed. _Fine._ Far humbler than any High Lord before him to admit he wanted to practice. I found myself nodding. “Yes, that would be worth all our interests.”

Tarquin, to my surprise, also looked to Feyre for confirmation. She nodded eagerly as well. Her eyes were wide in intrigue. “How deep does the Andros go?” I could see her mind churning. Undoubtedly, I would find Feyre attempting the very same as Tarquin at night. “Do you stop the current altogether or just redirect it?” 

_Should I leave the two of you alone?_ I laughed, amused by my mate’s eagerness. She had been working to expand her magic to it’s absolute limits but there was only so much we could do undetected. I feared the only chance she would get would be when the war is over and she could wreck havoc beyond the impenetrable territory of the Night Court. I could sympathize with my mate’s curiosity and I wanted to indulge it as much as possible, yet I worried. 

Everytime a High Lord came near her, I asked myself if they looked like they recognized something in my mate. Maybe the piece of their own magic she held. 

_Territorial prick_ , she taunted back.

Tarquin only appeared delighted by her enthusiasm. He answered her questions in detail, describing that he couldn’t stop the current for such a prolonged period of time but redirecting it was a different matter. He left us with the promise of explaining more the next day. Feyre eagerly devoured every word. If she asked the other High Lords with such honest interest, she might secretly become their pupil. 

When I winnowed us to Velaris, I noticed the first thing to draw Feyre’s eyes was the Sidra. “Just as long as you remember its winter and fae can drown,” I whispered in her ear while her interest was captured. 

She shot back a glare with no anger behind it. “I have half a mind to push you in and try out Tarquin’s plan myself,” she nodded pointedly. I followed her into the townhouse with my head bent back in laughter. My mate’s sense of humor would always find a place at the top of my list. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One horrified glance from Elain and Feyre was sent to the bath immediately. As I wasn’t much better, I followed. This was one aspect of my day I wished we weren’t in Velaris for. Though the bath in the townhouse, or the House of Wind, was considerably larger than the wooden tub we used back at the war camp. Despite that attractive concept of a bath that could fit my wings _and_ my body _and_ my mate’s body, I liked the privacy even more. 

It was our time together that was quiet and away from the world. We didn’t have to use our mouths to speak and so we could relish in the silence just as much as each other’s voices. With no one to interrupt, we could remain for as long as we liked. There was no other sensation that compared to running my hand down Feyre’s wet skin. The clean, fresh smell of her wet hair pressed to my nose and the warmth of her body pressed close were things I kept with me throughout the day. We committed each other to memory at night and I resented when this time was interrupted. 

But tonight, I would concede to give my mate something infinitely more valuable. Time with her family, not just her mate. 

So we washed, kept close while we did so, but washed quickly nonetheless. Feyre dressed in the Night Court saree was becoming a common appearance and I enjoyed it all the more. She had an array of sarees of every color but she kept to purple. She liked to match the color of my eyes. 

“How are we all going to get to the House of Wind?” she asked, turning to me. 

“Simple. We aren’t going to the House of Wind,” I smiled, watching her straighten the earrings I had given her. They never left her ears and I delighted in that small fact. Maybe the other High Lords guessed at their significance, or maybe they were just another trinket adorning another Lady. I didn’t care what they thought. Feyre was my High Lady and those golden little ornaments shouted it across the entire world to see. Each gem, when under light, would make three little bright lights like the three stars that symbolized the Night Court. She would be recognized as the High Lady at Starfall but I didn’t want to wait that long. Those earrings were my selfish way of claiming her for myself, my people, before the date. 

“Where are we going then?”

I was pleased to surprise not only Feyre but also her two sisters with the favored haunt of my inner circle, Rita’s. The bar was crowded, as usual, but seemingly more so when squeezed between the breadth of Cassian, Azriel, and now my own wings. Amren looked especially small in this circumstance but she liked being underestimated in that way. 

When Feyre had told me she asked Amren to train Cassian, Azriel and Lucien today, I thought it was a joke. But then she had told me she knew of Cassian’s taunts following our mating and that had clarified it right up for me. I gave her my utmost blessing to torture my errant brothers and her errant family as well. Amren was too happy to oblige. The results were humorous. 

Lucien was boasting a limp that truly must have been worse than he made it seem, only because he couldn’t hide it entirely. That was nothing compared to the ring of bruises around his neck and I knew from experience Cassian had rolled him into a chokehold one too many times. But curiously, Cassian and Azriel had twin bruises on their cheek bones. Apparently Lucien had won a fight by smashing their heads together and I found myself already forgiving the fox despite my initial misgivings. 

I thought Elain would dote. Elain had only nodded at Lucien’s neck and asked, “Did you learn much?” to which Lucien had smiled and she returned. Their interactions were curious in nature but I gave that up to watch Nesta laugh. 

It was like Starfall. A rare occurrence, hidden from most of the world and a little unearthly. But Nesta did indeed laugh and apparently it was at Cassian’s bruise. He gaped and she only laughed harder. The entire table was so caught by Nesta’s outburst that they didn’t notice Mor’s arrival. 

“I have never sat longer at this table than a second to sip my drink while the dance floor is open,” she announced with bravado. Clad in battle armor but having taken enough time to put golden earrings in and let her hair down. Her voice lost it all the moment she took in Cassian, sitting with his wings proudly displayed. 

Cassian didn’t fail in responding with a quip. “Easy for you to say, you can still feel your lower extremities,” he leaned back in his seat and grinned like a fool. Nesta raised an eyebrow. I was glad to see she could also see through his easygoing facade. 

Mor gulped. “And your wings." Her golden eyes might have melted out of her eyes with the tears she shed. Salt burned my nose. She didn’t look like she had spent the last few days camping in a field but her pained expression reminded me the true difficulty was spending that time away from home. Mor couldn’t handle the pain of her family and she also couldn’t handle being away from her family either. It left her with the extreme pain of never being able to protect her family enough to satisfy her wishes.

His face went still and Nesta stiffened by his side. She had her hands fisted in her lap. “You can thank Nesta,” he said seriously. Lucien put down his drink and looked at Nesta to his left for confirmation. Elain was also staring at Nesta but without any of the awe that Cassian or Mor had, only concern.

“How?” Lucien breathed out. Feyre leaned into my side, hand holding mine to hers tightly. I couldn’t tell what caused her to curl into me but I hauled her into my lap anyway, intent on holding her fully. 

“That is for another day,” Amren replied easily. I wondered at my Second then. She had taken to training Nesta and had yet to deliver a report. I didn’t think I’d ever get one. Something told me whatever Nesta took inside her was similar to the mystery that surrounding Amren. Even my power, however considerable, could never understand the magnitude of theirs combined. I would respect that privacy, if only because I had never liked to feel as I suspected Nesta did at this very moment. 

Mor nodded, accepting Amren’s answer though Lucien just glanced at Nesta curiously. She picked up a drink from our table, _my_ drink to be exact. “Then I propose a toast,” my court all raised their glasses and Feyre raised ours, winking at me. We all looked at Mor expectantly and she smiled bravely, “To another day.” 

We all sipped politely but Mor never was one to leave it at that. She downed the glass and slapped the cup upside down on the table. She exhaled, wiping her beer-foamed lips across her sleeve. “Alright, enough of that. I haven’t danced in weeks and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Another reason I loved my mate was because Feyre was fearless. She back talked Amarantha, even painfully outnumbered. She threw that bone at Amarantha's dress like it was a sporting contest. She took to the battlefield like it was a race and she was going to win. It couldn't have surprised me when Feyre then stood up from my lap, almost spilling the drink in her hand before taking Mor's hand and running to join the dance. 


	114. Provoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys commenting are killing me because if i respond, i will spoil everything. you guys know me too well, when there is fluffs/smut, next comes the heartbreak! please enjoy it while it lasts! 
> 
> Oh there are 2 POVs in here!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Cassian stepped on my feet so many times that when I woke up, curling my toes hurt. I thought that being the General of the Night Court and being so dextrous would somehow make Cassian an equally skilled dancer. As it turned out, those skills were not transferable. What he lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm. 

I hadn’t planned on dancing when Morrigan arrived. I thought I’d stay clear since I didn’t exactly desire the idea of being so close to strangers. Dance halls, from what I could remember, looked nothing like this in the Human Realm. I knew a few court dances but even then, not well, and they usually left more space between the partners than what I was seeing with the fae. No, instead, they made it their goal to get as close as possible while still keeping fully clothed. The music was also vastly different from what I knew. It had a livelier tempo like a jig but the steady drums made it soothing to listen to as well. If there were lyrics, they were in a language I didn’t know. 

But Elain had seized the opportunity with vigor. Once Tamlin had restored our wealth, Elain had spent three weeks with me memorizing dances until she realized that not many men wanted to dance anyway. It was mildly amusing to watch Lucien stumble after her; any attempts for coordinated motion was completely botched by the fact Lucien’s calf was still mending and Elain couldn’t explain a single step correctly. They also kept bumping heads. 

When she had relented with Lucien, she had chosen Feyre and I as her next victim. Feyre had already been dancing and quiet well with Morrigan but Elain pulled me to my feet, hooking her arm through mine to ensure I couldn’t get away. “Alright time to step left,” she instructed when she really meant right. A fae male stepped into me, bumping against me and sending me back into Elain. They apologized and backed away but I was further reminded how ungraceful my dancing must be. 

“No no,” Feyre came over laughing, leaving Morrigan to dance to her hearts content. “No steps, it's all instinct,” she took Elain and spun her when the music swung, stepping forward in beat to the drums and seemingly swaying herself to a rhythm I couldn’t hear. Elain had no issue taking after Feyre’s movements, giggling so loud I could hear it more than the music.

Feyre then reached for my hands, tentatively slippings hers through mine. Her eyes flicked to mine for permission but I nodded her forward. I hadn’t let myself get close to my youngest sister, long before I had ever burned her. I didn’t know if I had it in me to reach out to her, to bridge this gap. But I was grateful she hadn’t given up on reaching me just yet. I didn’t want to waste my life anymore but I simultaneously didn’t know how to begin my life either. I thought it had a lot to do with taking her hand and squeezing it. “I don’t think this is for me,” I admitted. 

“On the next drum beat,” she ignored me in favor of smiling devilishly. Years ago I would have hated to see that smile. When the drum came, we stepped in time. Each time it came, we made small steps until many small beats sounded and we’d spin around each other. 

“I don’t think I am doing this right,” I admitted, shaking her hand loose of mine. 

Then Feyre looked up at me and grinned, waggling her brows. “It’s like sex, you’re not supposed to  _ do it  _ right,” she taunted. Elain burst out in laughter but no one else seemingly heard. Though Lucien did look over at us from the table with a slightly curious gaze; Feyre had put up a sound barrier. Knowing her comment was private, I still had to fight off the blush.

“Fine,” I said and took her hand. 

After that, it was hard to care. If I looked ridiculous, so be it. I had this moment and I was seizing it. It was far more fun after that. 

Though when Cassian danced with me, I had no doubts as to how ridiculous we looked. He had to keep his wings held in tight to avoid hitting others. But the idea of so many people, so close to his back had him more distracted and so he stepped on my feet in fits of nervousness. It was the most off-kilter I had ever seen him. “Have I crushed your feet yet?” he asked after I lost count on how many mistakes we made. 

“Only half of them,” I replied easily, pulling him closer before he knocked a tray from one of the bartender’s hands. We stepped with each other when our fingers were interlaced. Cassian snagged one of the beers from the tray and turned to me, offering me the glass. I sipped gingerly. I was sweating and needed water but the beer was a fine substitute. 

“I’m sure you can drink everyone here under the table and yet you take such dainty sips,” he said, taking the glass after me and gulping. I watched the notch of his neck bob with appreciation. 

“You expect me to lose all my manners like you?” I raised a brow. Something solid hit my back and I realized we had made our way to the bar. 

“I could hope,” he shrugged, turning back to me while his eyes were alight with mischief. He ordered two more beers for us, pinning me between his arms and letting his broad shoulders block me in. His wings flared a little. I thought he had been doing this because he was getting used to having his wings back. Earlier, while he had been training, I’d read that Illyrian wings expanded on various occasions but normally when they were trying to impress.  _ Just like a bird _ , I had mused. “Don’t pretend you don’t lose a little bit of those manners in a more private setting,” he whispered when he leaned over me to grab our beers. 

I took my cup from his hand, our fingers brushing over one another. I thought the crowd would continue to bother me but I barely saw them with Cassian standing right in front of me. I brought the cup to my lips, watching Cassian’s eyes and took another small sip. Some beer foam brushed my lips and I ran my tongue along my upper lip while he looked on. 

I enjoyed the rush of blood in my body, the heat radiating off of him and especially how his tunic fit him well and that I had been wearing it the night previous. His scent of cedarwood was intoxicating. I flicked my ears to focus on his heartbeat and was delighted to find it racing. His hand grabbed the blue fabric of my long dress where it hugged my waist and squeezed. 

There was nothing amiss with how we looked. Onlookers would see a massive Illyrian standing before a tall fae female and perhaps being a bit forward by holding her waist. But they’d hear nothing of the struggle waging inside and between our bodies. With every fiber of my body I was drawing him closer, inviting him with my magic. He remained steadfast. I didn’t know what it would take but I’d get him someday. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dark hours before dawn, we had all walked back to the townhouse. Instead of following the others into the townhouse, I had turned to Cassian. Standing next to him all night had been a test of self-restraint. Feyre was comfortable with sitting on her mate’s lap. She kissed Rhysand and didn’t care who watched. No one in Rita’s gave them more than a polite glance but some human shreds of modesty kept me distant. Even Elain and Lucien were relatively uncaring of who witnessed their tenderness with one another. 

Cassian looked at me in ways that no one would ever second guess his feelings. Yet I kept my emotions hidden behind the steel in my eyes. I waited until we were in private to let him see what I kept stowed away. 

I dropped the stoic mask I wore when I took him in. With one glance he smiled, “House of Wind?” It wasn’t a knowing smile or taunting in any respect. It was genuine happiness and I felt a flicker of pride that I had done that. I desperately needed him to know that my cold exterior wasn’t all there was to me. 

I nodded and he swept me up, taking off into the brisk night. This time, he didn’t go any other part of the house other than where a porch led to his private rooms. No sooner had he landed was he setting me down and tugging off his tunic, dropping it to the floor. His fingers were already fiddling with the buttons of my dress. I bent his face towards me to kiss him and let one hand drift over the exposed muscle of his chest. My nails scraped his nipple and his growl rumbled through his chest to my hand. I pushed him further, biting his lower lip. 

“Nes, why are you purposefully riling me?” he groaned, breathing heavy against my mouth. “Shouldn’t  _ I  _ be driving you crazy?” he grinned. He pressed open mouthed kisses along the skin of my neck. He lost his patience with my dress and pulled it open, buttons popping off the fabric and scattering over the floor. 

“Oh you’re replacing that,” I breathed out when he took my breast into his mouth. 

He jerked my dress down to find me without any undergarments. He looked up at me with wide eyes. I threaded my hands through his hair and pulled out the low bun he had his hair in. The strands flung apart which was perfect for my nails to drag through, scraping his scalp. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

“You’ve finally noticed?” 

His mouth fell open but he easily recovered. He took my thigh and lifted it up, throwing it over his shoulder before lowering his mouth to my lips. I threw my head back, moan caught in the back of my throat while he stroked me with his tongue. All thoughts of teasing him further left my mind. I was too caught up with the sight of him kneeling before me and what he was doing to me with that mouth of his. All the times I had watched his mouth, the curve of his full lips and never once imagined they’d actually be on my body like he was. Torturing my clit with his mouth while one finger entered me, he tore a shocked gasp from me. His wings, finally given space to move, flared behind him. 

My hands in his hair became steadying, the only anchor I had to keep me on my feet. Cassian sensed this and guided me back to the bed, laying me down and lifting my legs to rest over his backs astride his wings. It was all too much. His fingers combined with the thorough torment of my lips pulled me apart, my back arching from the bed. His hand captured a breast, the other running over my thigh to dance along the soft skin he found. 

If I arched any more, my back would break in half but I felt like my nerves were pulling tighter and tighter. I wanted more from him, everything he was willing to give. I tugged his hair at the roots from my slit to stare at him with half-lidded eyes. His face came up, stubble glistening and a sloppy grin plastered on his full lips. I tugged again and he followed, kicking off his churidars with his shoes. His bodyweight settled over mine, his hips between my legs and his hand running up the length of my leg to cup my ass. He watched my face while he slid into me with pleasure contorting those perfect features. 

He bowed his head to my breast, gasping out as he sank into me deeper and deeper. “Cauldron...Nesta,” he breathed out, filling me until he could move no further. 

“Is that a joke?” I whispered. 

“No,” he lifted his head from my chest to press a kiss to my lips. “I was praying,” he confirmed, thrusting into me as he spoke which felt deliciously sacreligious. That was fine if he wanted to pray to me- as long as he only worshipped at my altar. Possession of him was impossible. He was like a flame and he burned where he chose but I’d still try. 

He tortured my senses until I was practically begging for completion, a sheen of sweat coated my skin and he licked along the curve of my breast. He drove into me until we both were climaxing and when he said my name then, it did sound like a prayer. 

Heedless that my legs were sticky and only getting more so, he only pulled me under the blankets and into his arms. His back was to the wall and wings tucked tight against his back. I thought he’d mind them being so cramped but he preferred to sit me in his lap, even though I was dripping onto his thigh at the moment. His chin rested on my shoulder and I leaned my head back to rest against his bare chest. 

It was hard to believe he’d leave on the morrow. My last few weeks had revolved around Cassian and either suppressing my powers or releasing them in front of Amren. Now, I’d have no choice but to actually focus on the tasks the creature gave me. If I could manage to tear a thought away from the male in front of me. I’d have to go each day knowing the same bastards that likely broke his wings were still breathing air and that threatened to kill me. I’d learn from Amren what I needed to eradicate those responsible and nothing more. 

I glanced back to the healed wing. The magic had fulfilled its purpose. His wings were healed, better than before, and that was more than I could have hoped for given my luck. 

His hands threaded through my braided hair, searching out the pins that kept the braid in a crown. One by one, he took them out until my hair unraveled and he held the soft mass in his hands. “I was thinking,” he began. I didn’t have to joke. I rolled my face to study him and he rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh. He wove his hands through my scalp. I found it hard to concentrate at the moment. “After the war if you’d like to visit the Illyrian Mountains.” 

I raised a brow. “With you?” a nod. “Alright,” I agreed, closing my eyes to focus on the massage his strong hands were giving my head. After half a day training with Amren, though not nearly as physically rigorous as Cassian’s, my mind was ready to shut off. 

“And stay there.” 

I glanced back at him. “Not in Velaris?” 

“You can stay in Velaris if that is what you wish,” he didn’t answer the question, one hand shoving away the stray hairs that fell into his eyesight. 

“Where would I live?” I raised a brow, feeling I knew where it was going; my heart was tightening. Or maybe it was my lungs. That future seemed so far away, further even, and yet he was thinking of it. I reached back to cup his chin, running my fingers along his rough cheek and drawing his hazel eyes to mine. 

“With me,” he swallowed. “With me, Nes.” 

I pressed my lips to his for a long kiss. I kept there to feel the sensation, to crawl inside the moment and press it all to memory. He made me want to do that with every second. “Yes,” I nodded, feeling my eyes burn. I had a strict rule on crying or general weakness: it could be saved for when I was alone. But at the moment I wasn’t feeling weak, I was feeling hopeful. Stupid, giddy and hopeful. 

“Can I ask something else?” he whispered, kissing my temple. I didn’t reply. I knew he’d sense my mirth anyway. His voice lifted like he was smiling when he spoke into my ear, “What made you change your mind?” 

I turned to look at him but his face at my ear kept my sight from his, “What do you mean?” 

“About me.” 

I glanced down where his one hand splayed over my ribcage. The fierceness of such a tender gesture pleased me. “What you said...I saw it finally,” I sighed out, leaning back against his shoulder. His eyes traced my features but my eyes were glued to the ceiling. “Back. Back in the Autumn Court.” He stilled beneath me, every muscle going rigid. His ears perking on high alert. “You asked me what was wrong with letting us be and I never found an answer to that,” I shook my head, sighing out. 

The memory was so painful to me sometimes that I had said those things to him and meant every word. I had tried my hardest to hurt him then and there; I succeeded in wounding him but not in driving him away. 

“Even if it’s temporary?” he tested, watching me with sorrowful eyes but still observing me all the same. It was my turn to straighten. My heart clenched until it crushed itself into a little ball of ash, much like how my magic worked. The words in my throat choked me.  _ You deserve this _ , I reminded myself.  _ You spent so long wishing him away, did you really think he wouldn’t listen?  _ I knew I had wrought that on myself. Cassian was only looking out for the heart I had attempted to slice through and I had to respect that. 

Even if every fiber of my being demanded I find a way to capture that heart. I started by looking at him and with a smile I hoped wasn’t too strained, I nodded. “Even then.” 

**Lucien:**

My calf had healed mostly by the end of the night and that was lucky for me as I was carrying Elain back to the townhouse. My tiny mate had a sensitivity to alcohol as I just had found out. I thought she just disagreed with the liquor Helion kept at his table. Instead, she had spared us all the knowledge that she lost all logic the moment she drank a glass. 

But she was fae and would burn through it soon enough. I hoped. 

For the moment though, Feyre was content to hold Elain’s shoes while she walked with Rhysand and Azriel. Amren had retreated long ago into the night, claiming she had drank her fill. Morrigan, curiously, walked next to me. Cassian and Nesta brought up the rear. “Seer, huh?” she said, peering at Elain. “I’m guessing Helion was thrilled.” 

“Thrilled is an understatement,” I replied tersely. Elain’s magic flickered then and I retreated momentarily to follow our bond. It was rising, stirring. Her visions were coming. None of the others seemed to feel her magic’s current. It was like a strong wind to me and they all appeared ignorant to it’s gusts. 

Her eyes widened. “Is that so?” 

“So interested, he wants us to return when we can,” I sighed. No secrets. Feyre made me family by her unconscious love for all the wrong people and I had to get used to that now. I could tell when the focus was on me. All hairs raised on the back of my neck.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want  _ you _ to return as well?” Azriel asked, looking over at me. His hazel eyes were bright even in the moonlight. I couldn’t pick out his shadows by sight anymore but I felt their magical signature like a breeze. 

I should have known. It wasn’t a far leap. Hated son of the Autumn Court suddenly acquires Day Court ward-breaking abilities, they’d have to be senile to miss the connection. I still wanted it to be a secret. I wasn’t ashamed that Helion was my father. It was better than Beron, who killed Jes before my eyes as some form of punishment. It was that if the affair become public, a scandal, then my mother would be the one to pay. 

She was kept under lock and key in the Autumn Court and that's the way Beron preferred it, knowing she would willingly run from him as he did. As his wife, he was at the liberty to remove her freedom as much as he wanted. He’d never let the insult stand if it became public knowledge. 

“There is no reason to,” I breathed out. My mother had to live with the shame of being married to a monster everyday. I didn’t need to add to her worries. 

I did wish I could speak to her now that I knew Helion was my father. I wanted to know why she had picked him. Helion was almost the exact opposite of Beron. His attitude was relaxed and open, mimicking his spellcleaving powers. The Day Court encouraged everything to be made public, even sex. It was practically against Helion’s nature to have anything remain secret. That might have been the best evidence of Helion’s love for my mother. 

“I am Helion’s bastard son and not much else,” I nodded stiffly. 

“Lucien…” Feyre sighed, the sadness in her face lit by the lights in Velaris. When her ears weren’t visible and in the dark, she almost looked like her human self. The fae penchant for high cheekbones, long features and unnaturally bright eyes took away from that but Feyre’s humanness wasn’t entirely physical. She was still mortal even with an immortal body. 

Just like Elain. Like Nesta. I never asked my mate how she felt about it. 

“You are heir then,” Morrigan pushed. 

“I am not,” I shook my head. I wanted to keep tight lipped about it but I reminded myself, not to these people. “My mother would suffer for it and so I would prefer if this was kept...secret,” I dragged out. They’d understand the implication. I needed a favor from them. 

Morrigan stared at me. I wondered where her golden eyes came from. I got my eyes from my mother but Morrigan had eyes that rivaled Helion’s. Rhysand and Morrigan shared unnaturally good looks but nothing else, perhaps their brown skin. Except once again, Morrigan’s skin was shimmery in the light like it also had golden flakes. “Someone should just kill the old bastard,” she hissed. 

“Say the word,” Azriel prompted and I knew he was deadly serious. 

“But then Eris would become High Lord,” I remembered, though after I spoke, I knew I never needed to remind anyone present that Eris was the Heir to the Autumn Court. I hadn’t seen my eldest brother in a while. The last time was Under the Mountain and that hadn’t exactly allowed me the time to see if he had changed at all. He likely got more cruel. Living under my father’s thumb like that did that to a male but I had never bent. None of my family and friends would have bent. Cassian would have told Beron to go fuck himself. Azriel would have long since made up his mind on Beron’s lifespan. Morrigan gave her response to Beron the day she entered Cassian’s bed.

“What a family you have, fox,” Cassian hooted into the quiet night air. 

I shrugged, tilting Elain’s head further onto my shoulder. Her magic bombarded mine as her visions came. None of them responded to it though.  _ Was it just me? Could Helion have felt it if he were here? _ “They aren’t my family. Not really.” 

“No. They aren’t,” Feyre’s voice was cold. Her eyes were set ahead and they were just as steely as Nesta’s. She wasn’t just speaking about the Autumn Court then. Tamlin had once said we were a family because we had survived Amarantha together. Even then, I had wanted to mention that technically only Tamlin and I survived. Feyre had died Under the Mountain but that was a fact he had preferred to never mention. I thought it was because his mind wouldn’t ever let him forget. 

Being a male who had no ability to deceive, not even himself, I couldn’t imagine how that crushed him. He couldn’t lie to himself and justify Feyre’s death even if it meant her rebirth. He knew he failed her and there was no getting past that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before she winnowed away, Morrigan had brought me aside. Rhysand gave us a curious glance but ultimately left us to ourselves, heading off to bed with Feyre. She kept her voice quiet to not wake Elain but planted a hand on my shoulder. She squeezed just hard enough to bruise. “You are a better male than your family ever should have produced,” she stated so factually that I might have actually believed her. “But don’t go fuck that up and risk my city,” she ground out. 

I nodded solemnly. “I understand that I was reckless.” 

“Yes. Stupidly so. Stupid enough that I’m surprised Helion could have produced you. But I guess it means you have a heart somewhere,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I will see you soon,” she picked up two giant sacks that were left in a corner. She stepped away, ready to winnow. 

“Morrigan,” I called before her magic peaked. Her hair seemed to glow when her magic rose but it was fading so quickly, I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light. “Thank you,” I nodded, smiling at the fae. I never knew I needed her approval until she gave it. That she didn’t see Eris’s face every time she looked at me, disgusted that I could find a home among hers. She grinned broadly before winking from sight.

I stood a moment in her absence before retreating to what had become Elain and I’s room. Elain had been in a vision for sometime now. She was so still. It was really a wonder none of them had at least felt it odd that Elain hadn’t even twitched for the entire walk home. I smoothed her hair back when I laid her on the bed. Her face was peaceful and lit by the moon. I preferred her under the sun and the implication wasn’t lost on me either.  _ Son of the Day Court, indeed.  _

I quickly readied myself for bed which meant just stripping down to my churidars before focusing on my mate. I pulled her shoes off and tossed them to the floor. Unfortunately, our habit of sleeping nude had vanished when we returned. As a locked door wasn’t enough to guarantee privacy, Elain took to wearing one of my tunics. No small amount of male pride filled me when she wore it the first night back. I was beginning to see the appeal of the House of Wind that Cassian had told me he and Nesta go to at night. 

Unbuttoning Elain’s dress was somewhat of a nightmare. There must have been a hundred. But Elain and Nesta firmly refused to wear sarees like Feyre and therefore I was punished with attempting to open up her dress with only the light of the moon. I was bent over her chest, squinting at the little finicky buttons when Elain started from her vision. Her back bowed and she gasped, coughing horribly. 

“Elain...I…” I began but her hands fisted in my hair painfully, pulling me down on top of her. She was heaving against me, arms holding me tight against her. I began rubbing soothing circles on her arms, kissing the bit of exposed neck. “It’s alright, you’re here,” I cooed, summoning my magic to heat my skin and hers. 

“I thought I was going to drown...that the vision was going to keep me there…” she breathed out into my hair. 

I stilled, biting my lip hard to keep my instincts checked. “You’re here. This is real,” I said. 

She nodded quickly. “I’m not meant to be a Seer. I can’t possibly...help,” she finished lamely, cutting off when the words became too incriminating. I hated that she experienced these without me but I understood. I’d never leave her side. “There is too much...how can I do it all?” she asked. 

I was beginning to think we never should have left the Day Court. Helion might have had answers. “Tell me what I should do, love,” I muttered into her neck, using her scent to center me. If I was ever shaken, she could bring me back. 

“The only thing I can think of is the one place I never want you to go,” she replied. 

I guessed her meaning.  _ But who will protect you?  _ She had asked me the night Hybern had captured us. “The war front?” I lifted from her neck to view her. Her lips were parted and eyes pained but she kept quiet. I sighed. “I promised I would help you. We will do it together.” 

“I can come with you?” she asked hopefully. 

“No, Cauldron’s sake Elain,” my heart seized at the thought. That was not only too close to the war for my comfort but too close to the Autumn Court. “Elain, promise me you’ll remain safe here or in the Day Court?” 

She pouted. “I knew you’d say that.” 

“A very fine Seer you are,” I smiled wryly. “But you won’t. If you do, you’ll take me. Or Feyre or Azriel...or even Nesta,” I reasoned. “I need to know you are safe. Please. It’s important to me.” Her hands cupped my cheek and she nodded, eyes tracing my features. She brought my head down to kiss me, at first to assure herself and then more needily. Her hands held me tighter. Our quick gasps for air brushed against her flesh, creating goosebumps in their wake. Her kisses grew more fierce, desire to get closer and assure herself of whatever she needed. I braced myself above her but one hand had snaked up her bunched dress to hold her soft thighs. 

Her hips squirmed against me. I needed no further permissions. I lifted us both from the bed, setting her to straddle my hips on the edge of the bed. She lifted her dress and I shifted my pants down, shocked when she slid down my shaft with a contented sigh. I bit back a moan, pressing my face into her soft curls and parted dress. “You’re missing a piece of clothing,” I mumbled into her body. 

She responded by rocking her hips against mine, prompting me to guide her hips on mine. Her face was inches from mine, eyes alight and intense. She brought one of my hands to cup her breasts, unbuttoning the front of her dress with ease to bare them to me. “Fuck,” I mumbled, circling the hard point of her nipple. She giggled once from my curse, pressing kisses to my neck but continuing to slide up and down my cock. Her moans grew breathier and became the only sound in the quiet room, in the entire world. One hand held her hips and I lifted mine to push further into her, enjoying the gasps that elicited. My other hand left her breast to play with her clit. I watched the surprise in her face and how she flew apart, head tilting back to moan soundlessly. Her one hand fisted in my hair and held me so tightly, my head jerked to the side. I cursed again, and a few times more for good measure, when I came. 

Elain and I panted in the quiet room. My mate’s eyes were still alive with life and even as my shaft softened inside her, she was unbuttoning her dress to pull it over her head. She made no move to unseat herself. Instead, she rocked her hips more until she elicited the response she wanted. 


	115. Draw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Though I didn’t want Cassian, Azriel or Lucien to have to return to the war front, I couldn’t help but feel it was natural to have them back. The war camp was more grim without them. Rhysand and I had done a fine job at pretending it wasn’t lonely and a pot of boiling misery but that facade could finally be done away with. 

I just wish I didn’t have to watch Elain’s face when Lucien stepped away. She kept one hand on him until the moment came to winnow. Her wide brown eyes always glancing between Lucien and the door nervously. When Rhysand gathered us outside the townhouse, she surprised Lucien and I both by walking to me and hugging me. In the way only Elain could by throwing her arms around my neck and crushing me with all the surprising strength she contained in her tiny fae body. “You’ll be safe,” she sighed out. 

It hadn’t been a question or a demand so I could only nod. “I will.” 

“You’re going into the Spring Court?” she asked and Rhysand and I were both taken aback.  _ Seer _ , we both said to each other simultaneously. Try as we might, I didn’t think we’d ever get used to that. Rhysand had joked to me last night that it made sense, that Elain’s notoriously round eyes saw everything. It was hard  _ not  _ to agree with him when they were as wide and round as dinner plates while they studied me. 

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back tonight,” I squeezed her back before setting her back on the ground. She scurried back, lifting the many layers of her winter-suited dress to rise on her tippy toes to Lucien to kiss his cheek.

The only hint Nesta gave that she might have cared whether Cassian lived or died was when she told him  _ he better come back without a scratch _ . He’d looked more thrilled than any male had the right to be. 

Cassian then swung his gaze to me. “Am I no longer under house arrest, brat?” 

I tilted my head, squinting at him. “I have a mind to leave you here.” He exaggerated my facial expression, drawing his hands to his waist and bent down to get eye level with me. I lost the glaring contest the moment I began laughing. “Well, let that be a lesson not to act like a complete and total fool.”

His grin swallowed his features. “Lesson learned.” 

I thought I heard Nesta snort before Rhysand winnowed us and the roaring of the winds blocked my hearing momentarily.

We landed right back in the middle of the Night Court war camp in the muddy earth. All around us, the legions of soldiers were in full swing of preparing for another day of marching into the Spring Court. It was a miracle Rhysand had run the armies while also attending all the meetings and fighting in the Spring Court. I gave the legions orders well enough in the Spring Court but training them felt awkward when my own had yet to be completed. Before Morrigan had to stay across an entire ocean, she could take off the training of the armies and still maintain her status as a diplomat. Now the diplomatic title had fallen to me and legion drills to Rhysand. 

Azriel and Cassian had done what they could, via letter, for tactical planning but they both contributed so much more before their injuries. As spymaster, Azriel had to stop receiving intel because he couldn’t very well have spies coming into the secret city. All intel had been delivered directly to me, a job I hadn’t done justice. I could hardly keep up. Most spies told me the locations of Hybern’s troops if they had stumbled on some. Others delivered details from the Court of Nightmares that I practically threw at Rhysand. The last and most rarest reports were concerning the spy among the camp. 

Nothing had happened since Hybern’s ambush of the refugee camp where he’d kidnapped and murdered all the human refugees along with some Summer and Spring Court fae as well. Where he had taken Lucien, Elain and Nesta then subsequently Made my sisters into fae. But none of the High Lords knew of my sisters except for Helion so of course the ambush had little importance to them. It had been generally accepted that Hybern had gone after the refugees because to let them live would have been a slight against him. No one besides Tarquin, Tamlin, Rhysand and I seemed to care how Hybern knew where we would take them. 

Azriel’s spies had cleared Beron but I wasn’t convinced. It was his Court that Hybern had invaded. Beron didn’t care for refugees that weren’t his own. He would certainly not miss the opportunity to rid Night Court fae from his land, especially Morrigan. The only fault in my logic was Beron loved his power more than any temporary relief provided by killing Morrigan, or the refugees. 

I suspected Tamlin for a long time as well but I had no reason for him to aid Hybern either. And I couldn’t quite get over the devastation in his face that took permanent residence ever since he watched the dead Spring Court fae go up in flames the dawn after Hybern’s attack. His eyes had only been that hollow when Amarantha had him in her clutches. Hybern’s murder of Tamlin’s people had stoked a fire inside him for all to see. The male had relentlessly gone into the Spring Court ever since, coming back with refugees, if not spattered in blood. He did so to the point of near exhaustion, showing up to High Lords meetings with deep purple marks under his eyes and fresh bruises. Rhysand and I marched with troops. Tamlin tore through Hybern’s soldiers with his bare hands. I dropped my suspicions of him for the time being. 

That left us on a hunt for a ghost. 

Rhysand even doubted that the spy was a High Lord and he had a point. Not a single High Lord would ally with Hybern; they all knew Hybern wanted Prythian above all else. Their lives were forfeit the moment Hybern won and no amount of strategy would convince Hybern to spare them or their court. Most likely, it was someone with far less to lose if Hybern won which made them invisible to us. 

With Azriel back, I wanted to redouble our efforts into looking for this spy. It was our only assurance Hybern wouldn’t know of our plans to reclaim the Book of Breathings. Though considering Hybern hadn’t sent fleets to wreck the Human continent, something told me the spy didn’t fully trust Hybern yet either. 

“There you are,” a sneering voice shouted from behind us. At the first word, Rhysand stepped close to me until his chest plate was right against my back. He rarely took chances when I was with the Illyrians or Dark Bringers. After all, they all trained under Cassian and Azriel. I had to consider them just as deadly which meant if I could see them, I was already within range. 

Lord Devlon was a particularly uncouth Illyrian that took all pleasure from the world with every moment he drew breath. I refused to use his title on principle. He had a bent nose that he still managed to peer down to glare at me. Rhysand had told me Illyrians had an odd obsession with bloodline too and Lord Devlon’s family was one of the oldest. Of course that did nothing to help his opinion of me. “It has not been easy in your absence, General,” he glared at Cassian. He must also have a death wish too. 

Sometimes I forgot who Cassian was. He was physically imposing and a bastard when he trained me but he was also goofy, caring and quick with a joke. I saw him smiling more often than not and that made me forgetful. Forgetful that Cassian still carried his dual blades with him wherever he went, that he knew more ways to kill a man than words and that all of our deadliest assaults of Hybern’s forces had been of Cassian’s own making. At one point, I was meant to witness the terrifying shadow that overcame his face and wiped away all traces of mirth. “Silence.” 

I straightened, narrowing my eyes. I rested my hand on the pommel of my sword. Lucien mimicked my actions but was far less familiar with the particularly nasty brand that was Lord Devlon. The errant Illyrian recoiled. “You vanish for weeks and-”

This Cassian, the General of the Night Court, didn’t give second chances. His hand grabbed Lord Devlon’s neck, encircling it completely and squeezing hard. Azriel angled himself in front of me when Cassian brought the lord to his face. He had a habit of doing that, inserting himself between danger and his family. Cassian snarled, teeth bared at Lord Devlon’s very exposed neck. “I want a death toll. Then I want to know why I don’t see four fully assembled legions in front of me. Tell Kier that his Dark Bringers have spent more time dying than killing and if they had a death wish, they could have just asked,” Cassian shrugged and sent Lord Devlon stumbling back. Lucien seemed dead set on letting no emotion pass his face at the display but his metal eye continually studied Cassian, desperately searching for his friend beyond the mask. 

He straightened and dipped his chin, ready to turn but I stopped him. “I’ll be taking the fourth and eighth legions today. I don’t need short range weapons today,” I commanded. Rhysand’s magic through our bond was already readying to lunge. I had better luck ordering the Captains in the field. The Lords still regarded me with disdain. I was still waiting for that challenge to come through and I eagerly looked forward to crushing them. 

“Longbows or spears, then?” he asked, eyes darting to Cassian’s glare. I couldn’t see Rhysand’s face since he stood firmly behind me but I imagined it was somewhat close to Cassian’s. 

“Longbows,” I nodded, dismissing him with a wave. 

“Rhysand,” Lucien said, voice a little dry. All heads turned. 

“Yes, fox?” 

“I found the male solely responsible for the Night Court’s reputation.”

A moment passed. 

Rhysand laughed loudly. “Don’t give me another reason to hate him, fox. If I kill him one day at your suggestion, the Illyrians would rebel.” 

“That would be a long time coming, Rhys,” Cassian shrugged. At my furrowed brows, he expanded, “They don’t particularly enjoy three bastard borns ruling them,” he glanced between Azriel and Rhysand. 

“Why not let Amren trim their ranks, then?” I asked. “She already hates them.” 

“You can’t make Amren do all your dirty tasks,” Cassian snorted. 

“I didn’t have to make Amren train you guys,” I replied easily, crossing my arms. Azriel, Lucien and Cassian’s heads snapped to face me. “She volunteered.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian proceeded to take all his irritation out on Hybern’s forces. He wasted no time in letting Hybern’s soldiers know they hadn’t killed him, or Azriel. The males flew over the forest line, inviting lines of fire, but their siphons burned away arrows. Lucien was told not to leave my side which felt a little ridiculous considering he knew the Spring Court better than I did. 

But the plan was clear. We were pushing into the Spring Court hard with the destination being the Spring Court manor to draw as much of Hybern’s attention as possible. It was a reasonable holding to acquire and the last reported sighting of the Cauldron. While we pushed forward, small sections of troops would march down the Andros to get into position. After we had reclaimed enough of the Spring Court, we would let Hybern capture a Winter Court messenger fox that leaked our plans: 

While we distracted Hybern at the Spring Court manor, our troops on the Andros would retake the city of N’simura, a key port that prevented us from getting directly to Adriata. Hybern would find out the day we planned to ambush the city and he’d rush to meet us. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet our forces after a month of us ambushing his troops and retreating into thin air. All the while, Tarquin would take Rhysand, Tamlin and Helion under the water directly to Adriata’s gates.

Taking the Spring Court was a ploy to cover retaking N’simura, another ploy. Rhysand’s intention was that when Hybern captured the Winter Court fox, he’d believed he uncovered the real plot. He wouldn’t look any further. By the time he realized we had fooled him, it would be too late. We would have the Book. 

After that, it was only a matter of time before we found the location of the Cauldron. What we would do once we found it was another matter.

For the time being, I ordered the archers to take out any of Hybern’s soldiers that shot arrows at Cassian and Azriel, along with the legion they led. Staying still in the cold forest was also not in my best interests. Winter in the Spring Court was still fraught with bitter winds and in the early morning, the land was covered with a sparse layer of crystalline snow. It left me cold and with all the time in the world to think over this ambitious plot we’d hatched over a single dinner. An exciting plan that meant a boring day for me and an even more regretful task of splitting with Rhysand. 

I’d lead the Night Court forces in retaking N’simura and he would be in Adriata, leagues to the west of me. It would take Tarquin two days to transport the four of them. We had to time it so our attacks happened simultaneously. The distraction had to be at its peak if we meant to keep as many of Hybern’s troops from reaching Adriata should they send for help. 

As much as I wanted to stay close to Rhysand, I needed to protect our own soldiers. Not that my  _ considerable battle experience  _ qualified me but that if we needed to retreat, I could put a protective ward over our us as my Day Court abilities were particularly well honed oddly enough. Especially since Helion would also be in Adriata but Lucien also being there took considerable pressure off my shoulders too. 

Though I had faith in my Solar magic irregardless. Sure, I could create bursts of fire or pull the tides of the Andros but those were messy and difficult to control. The abilities gifted to me by the Solar Courts were much more at my disposal and they never conflicted with one another. I could summon maybe two of the Solar abilities in a single day. If I used the Winter Court’s magic, I could never have hoped to access the Summer Court’s until enough time had passed. 

So on the day I went to N’simura, I couldn’t rely on my Seasonal Court magic. All my power needed to be saved for possible retreat and if Hybern was as angry as Nesta led us to believe, he’d give us the battle we were looking for. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a relatively uneventful day for me and by that, I mean I was still clean at the end of it, we all winnowed once again back to the war camp. “Back here? What about Velaris?” Cassian recoiled, glancing around the war camp in confusion. Opposite to me, he was covered in leaves and sweat from flying through the treeline to draw Hybern’s forces. 

Rhysand raised an amused eyebrow. “Missing bedrest already?”

Azriel cracked his back, “Need to work on your stamina,” he hummed, nodding confidently to himself. 

Cassian’s mouth popped open and then snapped shut. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless,” Lucien sighed out from besides me. 

“Feyre and I have  _ practice  _ with Tarquin and Helion,” Rhysand rolled his eyes. I wove my arm around his, tugging him to me. “And I am so overjoyed we have allies,” he laughed, kissing my forehead and playfully twirling my long braided hair. 

Lucien watched our display with amusement before turning to Cassian. “I’ll take you to Velaris if you can be patient to wait; I’d like to watch this display,” he jerked his head towards us. Cassian brightened considerably after and we all walked to where the Summer Court’s camp met the lapping waters of the Andros. 

Tarquin and Helion met us at the water’s edge. If Helion and Lucien knew each other, neither male indicated such. It was painfully obvious to me and the entire inner circle but somehow completely hidden from Tarquin and his Court. He slapped his hands together, “Let’s try this out,” he nodded. “It’s best if you three just follow after me.” 

With that, he stepped into the Andros. As he pushed his arm away from his body, the water peeled away from the shoreline to reveal it’s sandy bottom. The further he walked, the taller the wall of the swirling river got until we were eyelevel. I thought it would have seemed more threatening had I not also possessed Tarquin’s same magic. The water only looked peaceful and as it parted before us, inviting. 

“It’s best if we don’t talk when we travel. To conserve air,” he explained while blue and green water began to form a ceiling over our heads. I looked back, watching my inner circle fade behind a blurry wall. Rhysand’s thumb slid into my sword belt, tugging me close to his chest. I would have thought him nervous had his feelings not told me that he was focused on me. Momentary confusion was quickly replaced by shock. I hadn’t realized the moment my magic slipped my notice but there it was. Swirling inside me like the tides around us and thrumming with power. 

_ Easy _ , he whispered. 

_ I didn’t realize.  _ It was the first time I had been around another High Lord while they summoned their magic. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, or Rhysand’s for that matter. If it had, I trusted he would have warned me against this very moment. 

_ I know _ , he sounded displeased. 

_ Do you think he noticed?  _

_ No, I only did because you began to smell...distinctly like Tarquin.  _ I didn’t need the mating bond to know that Rhysand’s ire was aimed at Tarquin’s pull over my magic and not at me. He tugged my belt a little, the only proof coming from the clink of our breast plates but Helion and Tarquin seemed absorbed by the task at hand. 

I laughed.  _ I am yours, Rhysand. Just as you are mine. Do not go all possessive on me. At least not while Tarquin could drown us with less than a glance _ , Rhysand’s echoing laugh was the only response I got. 

We had reached the deepest part of the river and were suspended in darkness. “Oh, yes, that would be my cue,” Helion’s deep voice echoed off the river walls. We were all within a single pace of one another. I could smell the clove of Helion’s scent just as much as the pineapple and sand smell of Tarquin. Helion began to glow, casting our faces in shades of gold. 

I stared, entranced by the impenetrable wall of darkness that I could have touched if I leaned a little too far right. The bottom of the Andros was littered with rocks, fish bones and goopy sand. Outside of it though, I saw proof of the life that thrived in the darker waters. Things too large to fit in a river swam and I continued my staring contest, hoping to glimpse more than a scale or tail.

“Those are small selkies compared to the ones in Adriata,” Tarquin commented on my focus. 

“How big do they get?” I asked absent-mindedly. 

_ Feyre, they will drown you _ , Rhysand warned with a laugh. 

_ Does it matter? They’re beautiful.  _

_ Alright, this trip is finished _ , he sighed.  _ I can already hear Azriel’s worry from down here. We’ve been away too long. _ “Is there anything else you wanted Tarquin? Besides showing us your secret meeting place?”

I glanced back to the High Lord in question but he only looked back at me, a proud smile over my obvious fascination. Helion’s eyes brightened enough that I had to squint back. Tarquin shook himself. “Yes. If for some reason, I cannot hold the water at bay, let the current take you. I’ll push you to the shore.” 

“Noted.” 

Helion snickered. “Rhysand, play nice.” Violet clashes with gold and I was left glancing between the two. Tarquin began to walk us back towards the Andros’s shore, talking about packing especially light for the trip. Rhysand’s ire had grown in the small time it took Tarquin to return us. “I also think we should all declare who should replace us if we cannot fulfill our plan.” 

“Replace?” Helion questioned. 

“Yes. If one of us get injured, this plan fails. We need back ups. Cresseida will take my place if I fall in the next few days.” 

Helion nodded, clucking his tongue. “I don’t get injured but I do have a...contingency plan. Rhysand?” I bit my lips to keep from smiling. I direly wished Lucien had been present to hear of his sudden election to the prestigious spot of Helion’s  _ contingency plan.  _

But Rhysand remained silent when Tarquin peeled away the water to reveal the dusk sky above. I was about to ask my mate through our bond when his ire spiked to clear frustration. I turned to shore where Cassian, Azriel, and Lucien stood awkwardly with Cresseida and Varian. All appeared tight-lipped and eager to flee. I didn’t see the reason until I looked a few paces down the shore. Tamlin stood with his arms crossed, blood splattered across his chest. 


	116. Confirm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

He must have just gotten back from the Spring Court if there was still chunks of flesh embedded in his blond hair. Those green eyes I once thought so vibrant now seemed haunted as a forest is at dusk. Rhysand’s hold on me didn’t tighten or loosen but from the tense sensation his magic gave off, he was struggling to remain as neutral as possible. His inner struggles rarely showed through. Rhysand’s mask was impenetrable; it was always the picture of a relaxed male that just wanted the war to end so he could return to more interesting uses of his time. He looked no different when we walked onto the shore to meet them all. 

How indifferent Cassian and Azriel remained didn’t shock me. Azriel’s face was always a balance between indifferent and calm displeasure. Cassian sided closely to Rhysand with that same easy manner but mixed with a heightened level of sinister intent. What scared me was how well their masks fit them. 

Their masks slipped into position while the males took their places at either Rhysand or my sides, hands falling to their sword belt in no small threat. Cassian nearly had to wedge himself between Tarquin and I but he managed to do so with his wings. The rudeness of his gesture was lost when Varian and Cresseida also flanked their High Lord. 

I was taken aback by how quickly Lucien had adapted his mask when confronted by Tamlin. My facade slipped too often around Tamlin, much to my ire but now was the time to change that. I redoubled all my efforts to keep my calm and discerning expression as unchanged as possible despite Tamlin’s eyes taking all liberties available to peruse my figure. My eyebrow twitched. 

_ Pest _ , Rhysand sighed. 

My mate opening his mental walls was a relief for me. I rushed their embrace to eagerly accept the steadying hand he offered me. Our magic greeted one another and I momentarily clamped down on mine to keep my skin from positively glowing. In a moment where Rhysand and I needed to act as impenetrable as possible, it was everything I needed to be able to reach him beyond where others could see. 

_ I feel your shame, Feyre. You’re not shameful, nor a burden, _ he reassured. His citrus-scented magic brushed over my shoulder. 

_ Easy for you to say. Your history doesn’t repeatedly show up at your doorstep.  _

_ Tamlin and I have hated each other centuries before you were born, darling. If anything, this male is  _ my  _ problem.  _ Rhysand told me the sordid past between Tamlin and him. After a particularly difficult day in the Spring Court, Tamlin had a few choice words for me that had left me fuming; Rhysand had told me the story so I could understand why Tamlin would not let me be. Tamlin and Rhysand had been pitted against each other ever since, only exacerbated by Amarantha’s reign. My mating bond in Tamlin’s eyes would make me irredeemable, deserving of all his venom. 

But that's not how Tamlin always spoke to me and I blamed that on our shared history. We once loved each other. I couldn’t believe he would change his opinion of me so radically and yet I felt like a fool for having hope, like some part of me was betraying Rhysand just thinking any good of Tamlin but I couldn’t hate him. Tamlin might hate me but I couldn’t bring myself to do the same, instead I pitied him. 

I didn’t know what that said about me, or my ability to act as a leader. 

“Tamlin,” Tarquin inclined his head, an amiable smile plastered on his face. Helion looked positively bored to tears already of whatever drama had yet to come. Lucien, to my immense satisfaction, emulated Helion’s expression to the point I wondered how no one had guessed Lucien to be his son previously.

“Practicing,” Tamlin assessed. Cassian rolled his eye but had his head turned where it was hidden. That was a particularly bold move when Tamlin still had some space on his clothes for more blood spatter. I wished Morrigan was present. Her humor intertwined with diplomacy could have made all this tension evaporate. 

“Yes,” Tarquin said. He was more curt than I would have predicted. Tamlin and him seemed to circle each other with their eyes, assessing a potential challenger. It made me want to knock their heads together. 

“I would have been more than happy to step in as well.” 

“I sent a messenger. You were in the Spring Court.” 

“Yes, how considerate,” Tamlin nodded, glancing away. He snorted humorlessly, so far from the deep laugh that rolled off his tongue that I remembered. The muscles tightened under his sleeves, his fingers tapping impatiently on his sleeves. “Then I suppose Lady Feyre is now tactically relevant to the mission?” he didn’t glance at me and my jaw hurt from how tight I bit down to keep myself from speaking. I knew when the High Lord’s spoke like this, my logic would only hurt their precious pride. “Or did you invite her because she’s nicer to look at?” 

I froze my face to keep from furrowing my brows.  _ I think he just complimented me and yet it felt like an insult.  _

Cassian’s eyes fell on me like he hadn’t noticed that I was female before. If I hadn’t been so focused on keeping my face neutral, I would have glared at the Illyrian. Azriel had the sense to pick a spot in the distance to glare at while Tamlin spoke. Lucien avoided my gaze altogether, taking Azirel’s side as wholly uncomfortable with the line of thought. 

_ I preferred when he didn’t speak, even if he did pay you a compliment. At least the male isn’t blind as well as stupid _ , Rhysand groaned. 

_ Or determined to pick a fight it seems, judging by Tarquin’s face _ , Tarquin was all tension. He lacked all the nonchalance while he guided us into the Andros. I thought it was impossible for his eyes to darken as drastically as they did, mimicking a turbulent sea.

_ Follow my lead _ , Rhysand said before speaking, “Feyre is  _ tactically relevant.  _ She will act in my place should I be...detained prior the mission.” It was doubly well that Rhysand had warned me as I had a split second to decide whether I’d kill him or myself. 

Tarquin squinted at my mate. Tamlin’s eyes widened, his mouth opening only to click shut and all expression swept away. Helion shrugged. “Rhysand...your replacement should be able to hold the minds of the Adriata soldiers-” 

_ Ah _ , I thought when I drew the connection. My answering smile wasn’t entirely an act. “I am Daemati. I can do that.” 

“Remarkable,” Cresseida assessed, her eyes flicking over me. Varian seemed less impressed but that was just the male. 

“On that scale?” Tamlin hissed. I didn’t bother answering and instead shrugged. Let them all wonder. This freed me considerably. Only Rhysand would know when my magic switched from my daemati powers and the Night Court magic. Besides, he had no other choices since Morrigan was likely to remain in the human continent for the foreseeable future. Though my heart still raced at the possibility they’d see through the white lie my mate had told. 

“Rhysand, feel free to step down then. I’d much prefer the Lady’s company,” Helion sighed, crossing his arms behind his head and waggling his brows at me. Lucien’s father or not, Rhysand’s response was positively murderous. My mate’s instincts had been nudged towards their limit all day and Helion’s joke had only pushed him all the more. 

Tamlin fixed his face again and snorted. His eyes danced from all the fae but would eventually flicker back to me. “I’ll select a replacement as well then. Lord Melton can step in,” I recalled the stodgy male from the Spring Court who had paid his meal more mind than me. Farrel must have strongly taken after his mother. I couldn’t reconcile the image of the fae soldier that led his troop bravely and the Lord who sniffed at me when I told Tamlin I’d fight alongside him. 

_ Cauldron help us if Lord Melton goes on this mission _ , I breathed out. 

_ I’ve never met this Lord Melton and I already dislike it.  _

I bit my lip to keep my laugh contained. “We will be off then,” I looked up to Rhysand, not hiding my smile one bit. “Thinking about vexing Hybern has made me considerably hungry.” 

“And to think you’ve already done so much vexing already,” Cassian barked out a laugh, waving us away from the circle of High Lords. Rhysand and I left the group while our inner circle waited a step behind to guard our backs. The sound barrier was up nearly the moment we were a few paces out but no one dared to speak. Not until Cassian broke the tension again, “I fucking hate you High Lords. Rhys, you’re my brother but I  _ hate  _ the High Lords,” he breathed out. 

“Is everything always so painful between you all?” Lucien sighed. Though my arm slipped around Rhysand’s, he pressed me close to his side until my hip rubbed his thigh. 

“Tamlin was glaring just as hard at you,” Azriel reminded. 

Lucien groaned. 

“Yeah, I’m glad he banished you before he could permanently fix a stick up your ass as well,” Cassian replied. I wanted to join in on the banter but I had no energy left. I hung limply from Rhysand’s arm. I expected Lucien to dismiss Cassian’s joke but he laughed anyway like the wound Tamlin left didn’t ache anymore.  _ Liar.  _

I shook my head. “I don’t know how I could have stayed so long.” Violet eyes followed my face while we walked back to our camp but my mate remained silent. Would we never get past this ugliness? It was like mud we kept sinking in no matter our efforts. 

“You weren’t the same person then,” Cassian suggested. 

“Tamlin’s fragile pride wouldn’t have allowed it,” Azriel added, voice darker than all of our moods. 

“That’s not necessarily true,” Lucien corrected, earning him the attention of all present. We didn’t stop once we reached our camp but continued into Rhysand and I’s tent. Once we arrived, we formed a circle to face each other and whatever Lucien was about to propose. His metal eye whirred while he looked me over, uncaring that his words would potentially rile the three other males present. “You’re loyal to a fault. You don’t leave people behind even when you should.”

The silence hung heavily on my shoulders. My eyes burned. 

“I still remember when you wouldn’t punch me when we first began training,” Cassian’s face was nostalgic. “I bet you don’t have that same problem now.” 

I choked on a laugh. “Step closer and find out,” I turned to my mate, hating how sad he looked and offered him the best attempt at a smile. “Take us home?” We winnowed without another word spoken but Rhysand held my hand back while everyone else walked ahead into the townhouse. Lucien glanced back at us but flashed me a smile before heading into undoubtedly Elain’s open and giddy arms.

“Would it be selfish if I kept you to myself tonight?” he asked, voice dry. 

I smiled. “Not at all.” 

I was swept up into his arms and launched into the sky before I could blink. Higher and higher we rose but I ignored the glittering city to look at my mate. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my fingers comb through his tousled hair. Rhysand’s vulnerability showed in how tight he held me to his chest while he flew. His wings moved in powerful, fluid motions that swept through the air like a blade. He swallowed when I pressed a kiss to his jaw. 

We landed on the roof again, finding the cushioned lounges to lay on together like we had so many months before. Though it was significantly more natural to lay in his arms with both our needs open, recognized and craved. 

Rhysand’s hands undid my long braid, freeing my hair and combing through the long strands. I sighed out, pressing content kisses to his throat. We moved with slow and measured grace, like we had all the time in the world instead of just one night. We stripped armor and peeled clothing and didn’t care if we couldn’t recover a shred of it in the morning. All that existed was the comfort we felt where we joined, the warmth that flowed into each other while I moved my hips over his. His eyes weren’t half-lidded, but open and observant. He took in every detail of my body while his hands passed over my skin, committing me to memory. I did the same. My hands passed over his tattooed chest to lay firmly on his shoulders. Our breaths puffed in the cold night air. The chill of winter couldn’t touch us. Nothing could. 

He lifted from the chair to press his chest to mine, hands cupping my face to bring my lips to his. The kiss didn’t last. Our eyes were locked with one another. Violet on blue and all the colors we could see inbetween. His wings fanned outward. One hand held onto my thigh. Even when our pace became more frantic, his thrusts more deliberate, we refused to look away. The pleasure was building beyond our eyes and I could feel his just as he could mine through our bond. I gasped when our climax hit, my back muscles tightened so harshly I pressed my chest into his. His forehead fell to my shoulder while his hot breath ghosted over my skin, making gooseflesh. 

Rhysand’s voice was hoarse. “I sometimes have the urge to winnow you away to somewhere no one can find us. I just want to be with you, keep you close.”

I nodded, cheek resting against his shoulder. I rubbed my hands over his wings, watching them liquify under my touch. “I want to be selfish with you too. Tell the High Lords to solve their own problems and spend days with you doing nothing but...being with you.” Instincts seemed so obscure to me before my magic, the mating bond and of course, becoming fae. Now I realized they weren’t always a second voice, a second desire. They were the anxious feeling in my gut whenever Rhysand walked away. They were with me, biting their tongue as well, when the High Lords insulted my mate so brazenly. Each time something upset Rhysand or affected him in any way, they moved me towards him. Urged me to go to my mate because I could scarcely breathe without him. My instincts told me that nothing would be right without him and that I needed to be everything for him because I couldn’t bare to see him upset. “Tell me...tell me something.” 

He breathed out, pressing kisses against my ear where my earrings hung. “I think my mother would have loved you and I can’t wait for Starfall because we believe our ancestors are closest to us then.” 

“I would have loved her. I couldn’t  _ not _ ,” I thought Rhysand’s kind eyes were hers and not his fathers even though the violet was strictly belonging to the Night Court. 

Rhysand hummed his contentment, drawing me against his chest and reclining into the cushions. His wings shielded us from the wind and I summoned my Autumn Court heat to keep us warm. Rhysand winnowed a blanket and we were perfectly content to lay naked under the stars. I traced the lines of his tattoos. 

“I would like to meet your father.” 

“How do you know he is still alive?” I frowned. “Who even told you about him?” 

“Mor,” he kissed my forehead. I rolled my eyes, telling myself to kill or hug her later. “Besides, I think I should.” 

“Debatable,” I grimaced. As conflicted as I felt about my father, Rhysand’s intention still made me smile anyway. 


	117. Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't @ me you know I can't help myself with the suspense  
> 2 POVs in this one
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Nesta:**

Amren was of the opinion that the Cauldron would never be wielded by another again. In fact, she was certain of it. The Cauldron now belonged to me entirely. I was it’s keeper. I thought I had been since Elain and I were Made but Amren corrected me. 

“The night you were Made, you took in the Cauldron’s magic.” We spoke freely since Amren had put up our sound barrier. Our conversation was limited to the alcove we sat at. Books were strewn over the table and we both had an inkwell, quill and sheaths of paper for notes to take. Between Amren and I, our notes could have made a book. 

My fingers and dress sleeves were stained with ink. I knew I must have had ink stains on my face too. I wouldn’t have if Amren had let me get another candle after our previous burnt out. But she had only told me to make a candle and I’d only succeeded in singing the table. She was right that I needed to have better motivation for my magic in order to create. Though I bit my tongue. 

“But not Elain?” I asked, sitting at a table. Amren had her own personal library in her home but Velaris’s library held all personal accounts entered into record, including written accounts of fae interacting with the Cauldron with varying rates of success. If I had known the library looked like this months ago, I believed I would have opted to stay in the Night Court given the first chance. 

“The Cauldron Made Elain. She became fae in an irreversible process of creation. She is fae now,” Amren nodded, flipping idly through a particularly gruesome account. She was sipping lamb's blood again. I found if I didn’t look too hard, I could pass it off for a very dark wine. “If Elain were put back in the Cauldron...and the Cauldron had it’s magic back, it’d likely make a creature from her as it did those other fae.” Anytime we spoke of that night, my chest grew tighter than what should have physically been possible. It made me wish for something foolish like Cassian to be present but I didn’t want him to hear these things. Especially how they related to me. When it was just Amren and I, I could slip into the clinical coolness that Madja taught me. Everything we spoke about was a distant concept— purely theoretical. 

Amren’s eyes, though without pupil, rose from her book page to stare at me. She spun a silver ring idly on her finger. “If you went back into the Cauldron...well before you Bonded the damn thing, it probably would have stripped you of it’s magic and killed you like the other humans. Now, it’s yours to command. You determine where the magic inside of you goes.” 

“And if I gave it back?” 

There were too many extremes for me to care about every one of them. I found it easiest to consider them if I simply didn’t care about the outcome. My ultimate goal was to relieve myself of the burdensome Cauldron, remain fae and stay with Cassian. Amren made that reality impossible for me.   
Amren shrugged. “You’re Bonded to the Cauldron. It’s your magic whether the Cauldron holds it or you do.” 

_ Joy.  _

When Amren urged me to create with the magic inside me, that formed the Bond between me and the Cauldron. I no longer was a vessel for it’s magic but had drawn it’s magic through my veins and made a home for it within me. Before, when I destroyed things, I had only been releasing the magic bottled up inside. It had no direction as I never guided it, like a bottle of champagne that’s freshly uncorked. 

As a result, there was no ridding myself of it. 

“It won’t get easier without it here. Normally...magic vessels are small and held on the wielder. Yours is...Cauldron knows where,” Amren grinned, her teeth stained red, from obvious enjoyment of her jest. “You’ll have to be reunited with that Cauldron sooner rather than later.”

“How long do I have then?” 

Amren laughed. “It isn’t terminal, girl. Though holding all that magic is awfully terrible on your body, the worst of it will be losing control of the magic inside of you. If that is the case, we have was to deal with it.” 

“Like?” I couldn’t see the joke. Amren had said releasing my magic without control could destroy Velaris, the continent. 

“Anyone with warding magic could seal you and you’d fall asleep until we were able to reunite you with the Cauldron,” she shrugged, setting her goblet down now that she had finished. I found it impossible to have a mask around her. She knew what I was feeling, practically thinking at every given moment. I didn’t bother to hide my exasperation. “Though I’d not likely ask High Lord Helion or the Lord of the Foxes either. Feyre would likely be your best chance.” 

“And why not Lucien?”

Amren’s red-painted lips turned like I had asked an especially dumb question. “In an astonishing turn of events, Lucien has inherited his magic barely a month ago. Which still makes Feyre the more experienced of the two even though she came into her magic only several months ago,” she spoke loftily, shaking her head at how young we all were. I asked her how old she was and she shrugged, saying she  _ ‘forgot after the first civilization fell’ _ . And she wasn’t speaking about civilization in  _ this world _ . “Honestly, the rate at which mates and magic has been popping up, it’s a wonder we all don’t just become gods too.” 

“I was told they were supposed to be rare. It seems not only that was a lie but they are infectious and spreading,” I peered at the creature over the rim of my tea cup. 

“Mates follow magic...and magic follows fate. It’s no surprise. Destiny needs pawns to do it’s bidding.” 

“So mates are pawns?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Far less romantic than the others spun the tale I take it?” She gave me a knowing look. She shook her head, sending her short cropped hair swaying about. “Mates are a convenient solution to a complex problem. That being said, they are made for a reason. It doesn’t equate love or friendship or...any  _ feelings _ ,” I snorted at the way she said the word, like it was contagious and she preferred we fae remain the infected population. “But it wouldn’t do if they couldn’t stand each other, neh?” 

“I suppose. It’d be harder to get anything done being at each other’s throats.” 

“I disagree, I’ve seen great feats completed given the right...incentive,” she was grinning again. Amren might loudly declare herself an emotionless creature not of this world but she was very adept at expressing herself when she wanted to. That being said, I couldn’t be sure if she felt on the inside what she showed. She had no reflexes, no heartbeat. For all I knew her looks were learned behaviors to blend in with society as I had never witnessed empathy from her. The reason Amren and I were allies had nothing to do with her  _ want  _ to do some good but instead a logical agreement to solve both our problems. 

Though I believed her dissatisfaction to be a very real emotion she felt which crossed her face at the same moment energy like a heat wave entered the library, carrying the scent of cedarwood. I smiled softly and Amren grimaced. She waved her hand over the table to vanish our notes. “We’ll rejoin at my home tomorrow. If you ever hope to reconnect with the Cauldron, you’ll need to get better at controlling it’s magic,” she stood up and left me alone in the alcove before Cassian could locate us. 

He was a hair too slow, turning the corner just as my unenthused teacher left. I rose to meet him. “You’re back soon,” I slid from the bench to step towards him but Cassian was already pulling me by my waist to press me flat into his armor. 

His nose was buried in my hair, messing up my braid. His voice came out muffled but content. For a change, his hands didn’t roam. Once we were close, they found a resting place at my waist and stayed. “How come when I go looking for you, I find you in a library instead of the townhouse?” 

“How come out of all the places in Velaris you showed me, the library somehow escapes your list?” I retorted, leaning my cheek tentatively on his shoulder pauldron. It was very hard and uncomfortable but I stayed anyway. 

Cassian paused, thinking his response over. I knew something was amiss instantly because he rarely thought about what he was about to say. Like most things in his life, he did entirely based on instinct. “Because I knew I’d lose you to it in an instant and here I am, proven right.” 

“That’s not the only reason.” 

His hands squeezed me. “I’ll find out how you got to know me so well one day, Nes.” 

“Tell me,” I pulled away from his chest to meet his hazel eyes. He smelled of sweat and magic, a heady and slightly intoxicating combination to me. On top of the many layers of scent was salt and roses which I narrowed my eyes at. I tucked that away to reflect on later. 

He swallowed. “The library houses books...priestesses...and a creature. The thing that lives in this place is horrifying and that is putting it lightly.”

I glanced around like I’d see this  _ horrifying  _ monster perusing the section on lore. I sniffed but no other scents came to me. If it truly was as Cassian said, this creature was either very tidy or had no smell. “I find that hard to believe. What is there left in this world that could horrify you more than what you’ve already seen?” 

His face sobered. “Do not tempt fate like that, Nes. Please not to me.” 

I matched his sincerity, placing my hands over his calloused ones. “I won’t but I’d like you to answer my question.” I found all the promises I made to him were weighing heavily inside me. It was like when Hybern had taken us. Once a bridge had been crossed, there was no going back to the land of naive senses of justice. I wanted to ease his fears and somehow also keep my feet grounded in the fact that destiny would come for me regardless of the vows I made. 

“There are creatures of this world...remnants of what was before the Cauldron and we have one in the basement of the library,” he smiled sheepishly. He ran his fingers through his hair and freed the strands of the bun I’d put them in just that morning. I really had to begin reading more on lore in Prythian. “It’s bound to the High Lord of the Night Court and his family so it’ll stay put but...I’d rather not find out the extent of it’s domain. Can I take you for dinner now, Nes?” 

I took his answer with the promise that I’d return to the library the soonest I could. 

**Elain:**

Smoke burned my lungs. Watching a city burn from a distance was one thing but living through the destruction was another. That seemed rather obvious but being fae had given me a false sense of security, of impermeability that was being torn from my hands the more I witnessed. 

I knew it was a vision. I knew Lucien was holding me. 

And yet I was hacking up dry coughs in the center of a world on fire. I thought everything would be too bright, being on fire and all, but instead my surroundings were obscured by smoke and ash. The fire didn’t burn normally either. Anything the flames touched was burning, even the stone, and it appeared it didn’t have any intention of dying out. 

Scraps of cloth fell from the air. They might have been banners or scraps of clothing but they burned when they hit the ground. The fire burned so hot that the stone buildings were scorched black. The sky above was orange and hazy from the smoke stacks that billowed into the air. I ducked my head and ran for the nearest entryway just to keep moving, to get somewhere that the fire didn’t touch. 

The arch I ran through led to a narrow staircase sandwiched between tall castle walls that soared so high most of the sky was blocked out. Luckily, that meant the flames were behind me. The walls weren’t scorched. I leaned onto one for support, my hand ghosting over the stone wall that felt warm to the touch. All my movements were still sluggish from being in a vision but I found life or death situations were the best motivators. 

I traced a tiled pattern on the wall. My eyes were tearing up from the smoke. Everything was blurry. The air I breathed was dry but I wheezed, too tired to care. 

It was another Summer Court city. I knew it had to be. Who else would have a mosaic of sea shells? I spent the day reading on the different Courts but I felt none of it was actually worthwhile. How could I possibly learn everything I needed in time? The only blessing, and curse, I had was immortality granted me all the time I would require but I knew I needed this knowledge sooner than what was plausible. 

I inched my way down the stairs. When I grew confident, I didn’t bother walking but instead hurtled myself down them in the quickest sprint I’d ever completed. There was no time to waste. I didn’t want to find out how it felt to burn alive. The sooner I got what I needed from this vision, the sooner I could return to my mate. 

But the stairwell didn’t end. It just turned and kept turning, winding back and forth down narrower and darker hallways. The sky had long since disappeared but that blissfully meant so did the smoke and flame. The loud crackling air became silent save for my footsteps. The further I descended, the damper it felt and my poor body greedily took in the mildew scented air. 

I was invisible. No others could see me in my visions but one voice gave me pause, kept me hidden in the stairwell. I heard it too often now. It followed me to my nightmares and even my waking moments.  _ Hybern.  _

Nesta hadn’t described Hybern after we were rescued from the cages. She’d met him, lied to him and yet never spoke about the male like it all hadn’t happened. I’d barely seen him when we were Made, those memories foggy to me. Only after I had seen him up close in one of my visions did I understand why my sister hadn’t talked about him. 

He was uncharacteristically generic. He had long, ink-colored hair and an equally long nose to match, eyes beedy and deeply inset in his face. There was nothing attractive or unique about the male. I had expected more. Each High Lord was practically carved from a precious gem and here this male stood, looking perfectly average. He wasn’t particularly tall and didn’t dress in finery, only the doublet of his choosing with blue and gold thread. The only defining feature besides his cruel eyes was the golden crown atop his head that seemingly never left it. 

I hated him. I told myself that if I was ever in his presence again, I would not let this ordinary male scare me. He would not make me tremble in fear like a leaf in the wind.

I knew that was likely a lie to keep myself strong for my visions but I hoped it would be true. I hoped I could borrow some of my mate’s courage to make it so. Perhaps that was the reason he was my mate: so he could make me strong when I was not. 

“One lost city does not a war make,” he said, oddly wistful in the midst of an inferno. Hybern and two other fae stood at a canal that was sheltered by stone vaulted ceilings with massive stone columns supporting the city above. In the canal was a small boat with two fae soldiers, rowing to meet the King of Hybern and his two companions. They were familiar to me by now, the blonde female and the tan male.

“Trading a city for a prisoner doesn’t seem worthwhile,” the tan one rolled his eyes. 

Hybern didn’t have the same need to control that male as he did his Generals. The male often spouted utter nonsense and Hybern only drew amusement from the male’s apparent psychosis. The female, however, had a much more disturbing role to play. Lover to Hybern or maybe to all, this female was ludicrously obsessed with physical intimacy. She was also far crueler than either Hybern or the male. 

“Because you’ve been dead so long, you forget how crazy love can make you,” the female laughed, the sound echoed in the dark chamber. “Or I guess you haven’t forgotten.” 

“Precisely,” Hybern said, stepping into the boat when it came to the canal wall. “I lose one worthless city in the Summer Court and I gain the key to the Night Court.” 

“There are other Courts,” the male sighed, clearly disapproving of this plan. “I rather enjoyed N’simura. I don’t see why we can’t try and take it back.” 

“The Night Court has the largest standing army and six of the world’s most deadliest warriors. This war is child’s play if we topple the Night Court,” the female listed off. She hiked up the blue skirts of her cloak to place a bare foot into the boat. Hybern offered his hand to her and yanked the fae to his side. She recovered instantly from the hard pull and fixed her silver circlet till the blue stone was centered on her forehead. She offered a dazzling smile to the tan male that stood still on the canal walls. “Besides. Rhysand should die a particularly painful death and I can’t imagine a better way to start than with the torture and demise of his mate.” 

As if on cue, the stone walls rumbled around us but my panic was completely independent of possible death by crushing. Hybern’s gaze turned to the exit of the canal. “Losing this battle has only gained us the war. I look forward to celebrating.” 


	118. Convince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

I woke up in Lucien’s arms as usual. His chin was pressed into my shoulder, nose buried in my hair. It had gotten so long that I normally would have braided it before bed but Lucien would play with it prior to sleeping. We spoke late into the night since my visions had left me in tears and the only comfort Lucien gave me was that everything I saw, I had the chance to change. The least disturbing of my visions was Hybern rejoicing over taking Feyre from N’simura. It had been Nesta’s future that kept me up. It took all of Lucien’s strength to convince me to wait till morning came, when we knew the visions would cease. 

Till dawn broke, my mate did a valiant job of distracting me from the dark future my visions produced with the brighter one Lucien wished to create. “If you were Lady of the Day Court, you would find it much harder to dismiss the servants,” he chuckled. Succession of the title went to the most powerful fae within the magicline, or possessing the same magic. That was why Feyre stood to possibly inherit along with Lucien as she shared the same magic Lucien did and was, as Lucien phrased it, ‘too powerful for her own good’. Though that technically made Lucien heir, he was the most reluctant heir I had ever met which I guess made us perfect for one another as I shied away from the title and all that came with it too. 

“If you were High Lord, you’d have to attend all the meetings,” I retorted. 

“And I’d take you with me,” he shot back, arms tightening around my waist like he’d throw me over his shoulder to prove he could. 

“I dare say you wouldn’t,” I smiled knowingly. “We both know you’d much prefer me safe and preferably away from prying eyes,” Lucien’s flat face told me I was exactly right. As much as I didn’t like the attention of others, Lucien loathed it. He had a protective instinct that he squashed relatively well but our bond told me the truth of it. 

He pressed a kiss to my neck. “Yes, you’re very right,” he breathed out. 

“But I do not believe I am qualified to be a Lady. I prefer to do my own gardening.”

“That logic makes no sense.” 

“They have gardeners in the Day Court and a garden I would be hard pressed to improve on. I’d rather start fresh,” I shrugged. Speaking in hushed tones at night with Lucien, the future became abstract and none too threatening. There was time to change it’s course after all. If we could imagine ourselves in the ridiculous role as High Lord and Lady then maybe I could imagine a future happier than the ones my visions produced. 

In the morning, when I was expected to take action, the future went back to it’s daunting self. I was one fae with the power to change it’s course; the decisions and their repercussions would follow me for the rest of my life. I had a matter of days to make sure it went as planned. 

I slipped from bed without disturbing my slumbering mate. My heart was ready to burst from my chest, fluttering with anticipation. I had never been good at confrontation. By the time I had dressed, selecting a rosebud pink dress with a woven shawl of fine golden thread, Lucien had already risen and donned his armor as well. I felt better when he wore his armor but I missed the Day Court fashion already. 

He waved me towards him to fix his braids at his temples. I insisted the task be left to me. His hair was molten metal and I wouldn’t waste immortality not sampling the small pleasures in life like my mate’s hair. His hands cupped my face, bringing my eyes to his. I bit my lip. “You can do this,” he said in a steady voice, one hand tucking an errant lock of hair behind my tipped ear. I focused on his scent. The spice of cinnamon and vanilla mixed with the light, sweet scent of fig and pear. I let it center me. There were some unchangeables in this world, no matter how the future looked, and my mate’s scent would be one of them. “And when you do, you’ll have to decide how you’ll remake the Day Court gardens,” he joked, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“As long as you promise that no change is too drastic,” I querked a smile. 

He inspected me for a moment while his face lightened, skin brightening and eyes glimmering with pride. “It shall be as you wish,” he nodded finally, kissing my forehead again before following me out of our shared room to the kitchen. 

Luckily, both Nesta and Feyre were already in the kitchen with Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel. Only Azriel looked as collected as my mate did. The rest were nursing a cup of strong tea and sporting large purple marks under their eyes. Feyre looked at us when we entered and I caught her eyes. They woke up the longer they took me in and she lifted a brow in question. Rhysand’s attention was drawn naturally towards me as well. “We should speak,” I swallowed. 

That had everyone’s attention as well. Suddenly, I had five sets of eyes watching me. It was Azriel’s calm gaze that made me sweat. His face and posture gave no outward reflection of interest but there was an  _ intensity  _ that emanated from the male. He was inspecting me. I straightened my back. This coming conversation was best held between sisters, especially as incendiary the topic would prove to be. 

Feyre debated something mentally before shaking herself, waving towards the patio. How appropriate I return to the place my visions first gripped me. Nesta separated herself from Cassian to follow us to the porch. 

Winter in Velaris was beautiful as regular snowfalls ensured pristine layers of cake-like snow. Nestled in the valley, it was shielded from harsh winds. The only drawback was Velaris was so far north, the temperature was far colder than I was accustomed to. My breath clouded the moment we were out the door. I wished for Lucien’s heat instantly.

_ How long had it been since I was alone, with just my sisters?  _

Alone was a stretch. Four males were separated from us by a single pane of glass, three of them staring at us with confusion. Lucien stood remarkably confident when he was likely about to be subjected to an intense line of questioning. “I assume if we are out on the porch, this is meant to be private?” Feyre asked, gaze following mine to our audience inside.

I nodded. 

Feyre erected a sound barrier and then pressed a hand to the glass window. From it, flakes of ice spread out in a dazzling display of her Winter Court abilities. When the window was entirely covered, she turned back to Nesta and I. We stared at our youngest sister in confused silence. “They’ve lived for centuries and you think they haven’t mastered the art of reading lips?” she cocked her head, going to sit on the porch railing.

_ Ah _ , I wrung my hands. 

“What is wrong, Elain?” Nesta asked, hands clutched in her lap. She chose her seat at the table. I remained standing. I’d need all the room I could take to fidget and pace. I finally knew how hard it had been on Feyre. When she first came to Nesta and I in the Human Realm, begging us to aid her in the war against Hybern while delivering news that would ultimately topple our world too. How intimidating it must have felt to see Nesta and I so happy and content and shatter that with a few choice words. Only this time, I knew what the future held and I somehow had to convince my sisters to act differently without revealing my vision’s contents. 

“I’m really bad at keeping secrets,” I sighed out. 

Nesta snorted and Feyre raised a confused brow. “You told Feyre her sunflower looked like a dandelion weed when she first learned how to paint. I recall how terrible you are just fine,” Nesta mused, thinking back to the paintings Feyre had decorated our shared cupboard with. Feyre remained silent but her eyes were growing increasingly worried. 

“Which is why I need you both to not ask me questions with what I am about to tell you. You can’t because I’ll say what I shouldn’t.” 

“Elain you’re worrying me,” Feyre whispered. 

I furrowed my brows, hands nearly dislocating each other at the wrists in effort to contain my nervous energies. My useless tongue was choking my throat. “You should be,” I shook my head. “I cannot tell you what my visions have shown me. It kills me not to but I can’t. Not even to Lucien.” 

Nesta recoiled. “Not even him?” 

“No...there is a punishment if a Seer tells. Helion said that the last Seer who spoke of their visions died when their magic turned on them.” 

Nesta’s face grew paler and her neck muscles tightened until she almost choked herself. “That Cauldron will be the death of us,” her eyes were murderous. 

I flinched. “If my visions are true, then it might have saved us. I need you both to listen and not question,” I glanced between the two. For as opposite as they believed themselves to be, they looked exactly alike with their concerned eyes while they leaned towards me. Nesta’s eyes were harder than Feyre’s but almost identical shades of blue. “I don’t believe you should go to N’simura,” I looked at Feyre.

She sat back as if I had slapped her. She didn’t even question how I knew of the Summer Court city and her plan. “What? I have to go I am leading-” 

“You said you wouldn’t question,” I shot back. 

She pursed her lips but nodded, fighting all her instincts to find a loophole. She was the boldest of us all. Ever since she was a kid, Feyre had been getting herself into trouble. She moved with her heart instead of her head. I thought that even if I or Nesta had supported our family when we were impoverished and hungry, Feyre wouldn’t have let us go alone. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for her to accept that for once, she would be staying behind. “I guess that means I can’t ask why not.” My head fell to the side in exasperation. “I was supposed to lead the Night Court legions. That will fall to Cassian now.” 

Nesta’s head snapped to Feyre. “If N’simura goes to shit then you can’t send Cassian in your place. You can’t sacrifice him in your place.” Nesta’s words were ice cold with barely contained fury. The air rippled and warped around her as magic seeped into the air. The windows groaned under the strain.

“Nesta,” Feyre’s mouth opened and closed. Her eyes were wide with shock and hurt. “I would not ever do that. Elain said  _ I  _ alone should not go.” 

Nesta glanced back at me, begging me with her eyes to confirm what Feyre said. I could offer nothing of Cassian’s fate. Nesta figured that and turned back to glaring at Feyre. “That’s not good enough. If the city burns, then you can’t send him in on the hope he will return.” 

“And what? When I tell them I shouldn’t go to N’simura but Cassian, General of the Night Court, can’t lead either, how should I justify it? Nesta said so? Should you then ask Azriel? He’s not mated so we don’t care if he lives or dies,” Feyre leapt off the porch. She landed with a thud, heavier when she wore all her armor. She opened her mouth only to close it, repeating this several more times before she found the words she wanted to direct at Nesta. Her voice came out low and measured, breathing heavily through her nose. Nesta raised her chin at Feyre in turn. “I would not ask my family to lay down their lives just to save mine. Elain, I cannot step away from N’simura. We will have to find a different path.” 

Nesta looked away from Feyre to stare towards the townhouse, like she could burn a hole through the iced windows to Cassian. With Nesta’s abilities, she probably could. 

Feyre walked towards the townhouse. “That being said, Elain, I’ll take all your recommendations and do my best to meet them. In the meantime, I think it goes without saying this stays between us until we know more.” 

“Not eager to tell Rhysand?” Nesta asked, voice quiet. 

“If you think your reaction to Cassian being in danger is bad…” Feyre trailed off, looking to the sky above for help. “No. We’ll figure this out and we will do it without distracting them. We need to be focused for this to work. I’ll see if we can return tonight again but we need to leave now,” Feyre gave us a parting glance before slipping beyond the glass door. 

Nesta rose from her seat. 

“No. I will speak with you too.” 

She froze, looking at me with fear and suspicion. 

“I know what you are planning to do. It won’t work,” Nesta’s brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to reply. “Not the way you wanted it to. You need to speak with Amren again.” Nesta stared at me, quietly assessing. That was the moment I knew my older sister no longer regarded me the same way. I would always be her younger sister in need of protection, of care but I would never be innocent to her ever again. As my first act as a Seer, only time would tell how bloodstained my hands would become. 


	119. Split

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :,)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I knew the moment the sound and frost barrier went up that I’d not hear the end of it and I hated being proved right. Once I had stepped back into the townhouse, four heads went up in time to hear Elain tell Nesta she’d speak with her as well. Rhysand’s eyes fell on me, hungry for details he would not find. 

I told my sisters I did not want to distract my mate with the news and that had been true, but only part of it. The other half was that I didn’t want to tell him and I didn’t know why. It was illogical but I kept my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. The only outcome of speaking would have been as I said, Cassian would lead the charge, or we would forge onward as planned. Nesta had accused me of a selfishness so acute I still hadn’t gotten over my anger but she made a valid point. If the battle at N’simura was destined to fail then I had no right to ask Cassian to lead the charge and die in my place. Rhysand would be faced with the same terrible choice. Would he risk the life of his mate or his brother? 

I could not do that to my mate. I would make the decision for him. It was my life to risk and I’d have to accept the consequences. 

“They are still speaking but we should go,” I broke the silence. None of the four males moved. “No I will not be revealing what we spoke about so we should go before we are late.” 

We were making another push into the Spring Court today, ramping up the frequency and intensity of our charges to get Hybern’s full attention. Today would be the first day where the Courts would move as unified fronts. The Night Court was paired with the Summer and Winter Court today but tomorrow we would rotate. It was a part of the plan that Hybern could not fortify against what he could not predict. We were supposed to pair with the Spring Court today as well but Tamlin had never confirmed if he would be present or one of the minor Lords. 

“That’s bullshit,” Cassian blew out a breath. 

Azriel raised his brows in agreement. 

“You don’t have to like it. I don’t either.” 

“But you won’t say,” Azriel asked. 

“I can’t,” I shook my head. They had kept my attention but all my focus was on my mate. My mate who had made himself beyond my reach so that I could not divine a single emotion, either physically or through our bond. It was so at odds with how we had risen this morning, pressed against each other and laughing softly. Jesting at each other over who had the worst morning breath and that I insisted on pressing my very cold feet to his bare calves. That was well enough as Rhysand’s wings smothered me often and they were deceptively heavy. 

We had been perfectly in tune to each other, dressing with an ease that neither of us questioned. We barely needed to voice our wants. I’d buckled his armor while he did mine. When he picked me up to fly back, my arms slid around his neck like a well-worn glove over fingers. 

Rhysand’s face was impassive. His eyes burrowed into mine. _Please do not push me on this_ , I asked him. He shook his head and rose to his feet. “Alright.” 

I winced but forced myself to empathize with my mate’s feelings. I admitted there was something I could not reveal and he had the right to feel left out. Lucien offered me a comforting smile when I joined them outside the front of the townhouse. Following behind the trio, I felt particularly small when shown their backs. The distance was made worse by the withdrawal of Rhysand’s mental presence. The message was clear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I barely noticed how the time passed because my mind was stuck in the hell of debating my decision. If all my choices aligned with the approval of my court, life would have been too perfect for me. I was resolved to my decision however. They wanted to know but they did not know what havoc it would wreak over their heads. _They should trust me more than this_ , I huffed when we met up with the Summer and Winter Courts. 

Each time I got close to blurting it out, I reminded myself of what would happen. The decision I would force on Rhysand’s shoulders. The divide I would create through our court. I refused to make him responsible for it. I would take Elain’s warning and do my best to avoid whatever doom she predicted. 

She shocked me with her distance in the matter. She’d possibly seen something so terrible, maybe my death, and yet kept composed. No tears were present. She fidgeted nervously but had an air of determination that pushed her to keep her back straight, chin high. It was a far cry from the sister I remembered, flighty and indecisive that was struck with every emotion conceived simultaneously. It was that very change that forced me to take it all seriously. I had to assume she had foreseen my death at N’simura. If that were the case, I wondered if I was leading the Night Court to certain demise. 

Her warning had been aimed specifically at me, otherwise she would have said we shouldn’t charge the city, but that was a hell of an assumption to make. To hinge all those lives on what Elain may or may not have meant but she had demanded we don’t question her. 

With the threat of her magic turning against her, whatever that meant, I heeded her warning. 

The Spring Court was covered in a thin layer of frost, even in the late morning. My use of the Winter Court magic made me impermeable to the cold but my family’s general regard of me was enough to chill me straight to my bones. Our heavy boots made obscenely loud crunching sounds with the frost and it was up to the High Lords to place sound barriers ahead of us. Even if my position hadn’t pushed me to the right flank, I kept well and clear of all three High Lords. I avoided Tarquin because I didn’t want for friendly company and I didn’t want to go near Kallias while Winter Court magic flooded my veins. As for Rhysand, I was either going to spill my guts or argue the point till we were blue in the face. 

Cassian and Azriel didn’t ignore me but they were more reserved than I knew either of them to be. For Azriel, this was a slight change in his shadows. For Cassian, this was a complete upheaval of his personality. It was difficult to decide which hurt worse. Rhysand's silence through the bond was felt but I did all I could to keep my thoughts from straying to my mate. If I didn't focus on the gaping hole in my chest, I could perhaps keep my attention on the fight at hand. 

Luckily, all my thoughts fell away when we saw our first lick of battle. We pushed past the territory we had taken back. The moment we were a league past, we were confronted with the first of Hybern’s legions distributed throughout the Spring Court. I thought the Night Court legions were vicious but I hadn’t seen Cresseida decapitate a soldier after severing their limbs. Varian was less artful and preferred to go straight for the neck. 

I’ve watched Illyrians partake in each fight like it was a competition that they were born to win. The Dark Bringers acted much the same but they could give Cresseida and Varian a run for their money on creative ways to kill Hybern’s soldiers. I focused on the rhythm of swinging my sword. Circle them, find an in and then step when they let their guard down. It was a simple dance. All my thoughts bled away till only the thud of my heart and the sounds of the forest filled my mind. You could always tell when you were about to be attacked. A series of quick thuds and you had less than a second to raise your sword to parry the attack. 

My first few battles in the Spring Court had left me with nightmares. I remembered the body count and used it like a battering ram when night came. Even after Rhysand and I had long since gone to bed, I would wake to the feel of my sword in my hand like a phantom. I could vividly recall the reverberation that shook my arm when my blade hit bone or when the cut was clean, how flesh tore apart like soft butter.

I lost that regret once Hybern kidnapped my family. All my doubts that I was killing soldiers who had no choice, who Hybern had forced to fight fled my mind. It was likely and yet I hardly cared. They were all responsible for what happened to my sisters and Lucien. It became easy to justify the slaughter when I could still see Nesta and Elain, chained in the Spring Court’s prison. I threw myself into the fight without regrets and the blood no longer haunted me. I knew my mindset wasn’t permanent. _When the war was done_ , I told myself, _I’d face myself then._

But not before. 

Hybern grew tired of us slicing through his soldiers like they were only sheep for the dinner table. He had ordered archers ready. We previously had seen the effect of these archers when they aimed at the Illyrians that were airborne currently. Now, it seemed, Hybern wanted everyone to die by arrow. Our first warning was an arrow whistling through the air. The sound drew my eyes to see it penetrate a nearby Dark Bringer’s neck. “Archers,” I screamed out, pulling one surviving soldier with me. Soldiers behind me echoed my shout to pass the message down the lines. 

I lunged behind a tree as many of the others did till one of the High Lords could erect a barrier to protect us. But the barrier never came. The arrows continued to fly and remind those that stepped from their shelter how mistaken they were. I was under Tarquin’s flank of protection yet I didn’t hear Cresseida or Varian shouting. If we stayed still, Hybern’s soldiers would pick us off one by one or creep up on us until we were swarmed. 

I stepped from the trees protection and darted to the next. Arrows followed my movements. Winnowing was still hardly my strong suit and exhaustive as it was to my magic, I kept to running. Besides, I preferred to keep my magic fully stocked in case Hybern had any more tricks to pull. I had to find Tarquin or his court. They had a job to do at N’simura, at Adriata and by the Cauldron I was going to force them to do it. I refused to let whatever Elain saw come true. We would take back the Book of Breathings and we would all survive it. Everyone would come home, I would ensure it. 

I dared to use my Winter Court magic. On the pieces of my clothes not covered by scaled armor, I froze my sweat till ice shielded me. The more I moved, the thicker the layer got until my clothing was stiff and cracked as I ran. 

Tarquin was stationed closer to the front than the rest of us. Varian and Cresseida were closer to where I fought. I slipped between the trees and darted the clearings I could. In the dense Spring foliage, it was a guessing game as to how exposed I actually was. _Why did we not wear helmets?_ I asked. My head and neck were the only parts of me left unguarded, by steel and leather or by ice, which made my vulnerability painfully apparent. 

I was so focused on dodging arrows I almost tripped over Tarquin. And Varian. Varian had been quicker to find his High Lord and paid the price, an arrow sticking through his collarbone. Varian betrayed no pain. He looked annoyed though. 

_Typical._

“Feyre,” Tarquin stared at me in obvious surprise, hands pressed to Varian’s shoulder. His head whipped to me so fast the shells braided in his locks chorused at my arrival. Tarquin’s pants were soaked from the wet forest floor and Varian was sodden. One of Tarquin’s long white dreads was dipped in Varian’s blood, turning the lock a deep crimson. 

“The arrows are tipped in faebane,” Varian grumbled. 

My eyes hadn’t left Tarquin’s bloodstained hair, oddly entranced. “I’ll get Varian back. Tarquin, you need to raise the shields,” I shook myself, kneeling on Varian’s other side. 

“If I remove my hands, he is going to bleed,” Tarquin’s blue eyes flicked to Varian’s wound. I thought the shot had been shallow and that was why it wasn’t flowing so steadily. 

“Then I guess I better move fast. If you don’t raise the shields, Hybern’s soldiers are going to swarm,” We locked eyes but I could already see the decision. He knew there was little other choice that didn’t involve waiting longer and risking far more severe outcomes. 

“Alright.” 

“Help me get him standing. Varian, don’t be a sack of flour. You’re not dead,” _Yet._ He was looking awfully ashen for the normally vibrant black tones of his skin. The reddish flare to his cheeks was completely missing. The male still knew how to glare though so I counted my blessings, accepting his arm around my shoulder. It was awkward. Varian was around Rhysand’s height and bulkier. His arm weighed almost as much as Rhysand’s leg. 

Luckily, I was extraordinarily strong. Some innate abilities didn’t need me to declare a magic to access. The Dawn Court healing was accessible irregardless if I called the magic or not. The same went for my night vision and my strength. Lucien thought my speed was from the Autumn Court. 

I adjusted Varian and nodded for Tarquin to remove his hands. Tarquin spun to face the arrows, raising his hands. Despite having called on Winter Court magic, his piece of power inside me lurched a little like it was being called home. 

Tarquin was right. Varian began bleeding all over me the second Tarquin’s magic stopped forcing the blood back. I had a few minutes. I began to run, uncaring that Varian could hardly keep up. I was strong and fast. I could do this but maybe not in time to help the male whose head was already falling against mine. 

“Oh stay awake,” I hissed out, pausing to take shelter behind a tree. Sweat dripped down my forehead and I didn’t bother to form my ice shield, not while Tarquin held the barrier. 

“Don’t...order...me,” he panted out, head laying on my shoulder. His words were lazy from his tongue lolling around. 

“You don’t have energy to run but you can still be a pain in my ass,” I huffed. He mumbled something incoherent to my ears. I looked at the treelines. I couldn’t see our soldiers. They were all hidden at the moment. I had no idea how long I spent running towards the front lines. The next glance at Varian and he was unconscious. 

“Varian?” I called, hoisting him up again. His feet no longer touched the ground. I wholly supported the large male who was dying in my arms. 

_No_ , I hissed mentally. 

In a split second decision, I pressed my hand to his wound and summoned ice to my veins. Ice splintered away from my hand, formed from his blood, and I kept calling it till his shoulder was nearly encased in ice. It was the shittiest, most last minute solution I had and yet it was all I could offer. His blood wasn’t actively pouring out but it still dribbled. 

It would have to be enough. I crossed his arms around my neck, dragging his torso against my back and made for the treeline again. If Tarquin’s barrier failed, the arrow would hit Varian before me. In many ways to me that was infinitely worse. 

Cresseida screamed out her brother’s name. The sound hurt my ears but it caused the sweet flood of relief. We had made it. Varian’s heartbeat was faint but present. She came running from her cover to meet us. “Get a healer,” I cried out, causing her to stop halfway and spin on her heels. 

No sooner was I laying Varian down on the forest floor than ripping away the chunks of ice still stuck to his skin. The healer, dressed in the Dawn Court’s orange, and Cresseida made a mad dash for me. We didn’t have time to get somewhere more fitting. Some flesh tore away and I cringed but I swept them away too. In their place, I pressed my hands deeply against Varian’s bleeding wound. 

“It was an arrow,” I told the healer, studying their face for any signs of discernment. Did they know what I had done? Did I care? But the healer only nodded, eyes far off and face clear of emotion. “It had faebane on it,” I added lamely. The healer continued to nod but their hands were pressing on and around Varian’s wound with a green paste that smelled bitter, like garlic.

Branches broke as something heavy shook the ground. “Feyre where were you?” Cassian crashed through the treeline, taking me in. He had been in the aerial assault so why he was on the ground evaded me. His chest was heaving, both swords covered in blood and hair that definitely wasn’t his was plastered to his armor. His eye were haunted, wide with panic, barely taking in that I was drenched from neck down in sweat and Varian’s blood. 

“At the front. What happened?” I stood. 

Cassian didn’t comment, just swept me up and took to the skies. “Rhysand was hit.”


	120. Beguile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Rhysand:**

The fight came quicker this time. Despite being on the left flank of the charge, we were hit first. If I was betting, I would have said Hybern knew where to find me but those suspicions were a waste of time. I had only just been moved to the left flank after it was made clear that the Spring Court would only be providing two legions instead of their promised four. As a result, some last minute shifting was needed that saw the Spring Court forces combined with the Winter Court’s to comprise the central spot of the charge. 

It took a lot of self restraint not to get caught in the fact this put me on the direct opposite of Feyre’s position. I hadn’t been too thrilled she was with Tarquin’s legion but I couldn’t act on that. It was a part of the new strategy of our ambushes that the legions rotate shifts on the battlefield along with the High Fae. It was supposed to help make the transition easier for our upcoming fights at N’simura and of course, the plan to retake the Book of Breathings from the Summer Court. We all needed to get used to blending the boundaries drawn between courts. We couldn’t expect to win if we kept fighting so divided. 

So Feyre would work with the Summer Court today, Cassian and Azriel would fly with the Dawn Court tomorrow. Lucien was working with Kallias. If there was anyone even less pleased about the Spring Court’s last minute adoption into the Winter Court legions, it was Lucien. I hadn’t seen Tamlin but I didn’t think the minor lords would greet the fox warmly either. For the first time since Morrigan was stationed on the continent, I was extremely grateful she had stayed there this long. If by chance she was paired with the Autumn Court, we might have a civil war on our hands before long. It would have been well within my right to change the rotations, to ensure my family didn’t need to work with the others but that would get us nowhere. 

These were the issues that came with being a leader. My decisions wouldn’t be challenged but sometimes they needed to be. 

Which brought me full circle to my mate’s actions. All the times I had told her the decisions she would have to make as a High Lady were hers and hers alone and yet I couldn’t bring myself to accept this  _ one. Lousy hypocritical overprotective idiot _ , I sighed. 

My mind had not been my own since Elain had spoken privately with Feyre and Nesta. It had taken it’s own monstrous course, hell-bent on ensuing self-inflicted disaster. It felt much like watching an argument build into a brawl; I felt powerless to stop the course of my emotions and yet unable to look away. I wanted to know what Elain had said more than I cared to breathe. The very fact Feyre refused to share was enough to tell me that the outcomes of Elain’s visions were far-reaching. The possibilities on any day were endless. During a war, they were unfathomable. 

My fear told me Feyre was in danger, my court was in danger. The rational side of me said that Feyre was protecting us by withholding. A host of feelings accompanied and to my horror, my pride was among them. I forced it down repeatedly even though it continued to resurrect itself like a damn necromancer.

Several times during the day I thought I should reach out to my mate but I until I knew what I would say, I resisted. If Elain was involved, so was fate and I wouldn’t tempt it by saying something I would regret. Feyre deserved my patience and I’d give it to her. 

I knew it was killing her equally so as Feyre was much less firm in building her mental walls. It took experience to form truly unforgiving mental walls. Feyre had a formidable shield that protected her from other daemati but against her mate, she was less determined. For that I was grateful. Her misery felt like a torrential downpour that chilled me, made my bones and muscles ache. It had no end and I was losing my resolve with every passing moment. 

Memories of last night felt distant without her by my side. I was overjoyed that Azriel, Cassian and Lucien rejoined the battle but in that span of time, Feyre had become my right hand. It seemed dramatic and an exaggeration to say but together we  _ were _ unstoppable. We would stand paces apart and no enemy would make it between us. Our backs to each other, I trusted Feyre would never give me a reason to fear for mine. With our mental bond, we knew when the other was injured or tired and could adjust without words or glances. In the close quarters found in battle, our feet stepped around one another with purpose. Her back would press to mine and I could turn to help disband those that forced her retreat. When soldier’s ganged up on me, Feyre would whirl from my side to level the fight. 

In simple but effective maneuvers, she’d slice at ligaments and muscles until their movements could no longer match their intentions. Her braid would whip from side to side as she parrayed and smear the blood on her cheeks like a paintbrush would. My face took on a calm sort of understanding when I fought. I had no mirth when I killed. Feyre’s brows narrowed, eyes glaring her opponent into submission with fierce and turbulent orbs of blue. Anyone could see she hated it. She took no enjoyment in the battle like Cassian appeared to but was propelled by duty. 

I loved her all the more for it. 

When the fighting began in the Spring Court, I felt her absence like a knife to my heart. The sight of Dark Bringer legions surrounding me was no added plus in my opinion. The world was cast back in shades of grim. My heart took over my thoughts. I stepped to each thud. Without Feyre or my family by my side, I kept my wings hidden as I didn’t feel like tempting fate. 

Hybern must have been at his wits end as I found it easier to cull their lot. No sooner had I turned to face a soldier was I launching myself and thrusting my sword through whatever weakness they were either too lazy or unskilled to defend. They dropped and I was past them. They were bodies in my way and nothing more. I was only surprised when hot blood spattered across my face, shaking my sleeping nerves. 

I hadn’t even cut through the male in front of me and yet his neck was torn open, a clear hole made. Head bent back and mouth open in a silent scream, the corpse fell to their knees and then the ground before me. Confusion cost me. Only the whirring sound of an arrow splitting the air saved me. I jumped back, casting out a shield on instinct before hundreds more were loosed. They whistled and collided, a mix of  _ thuds _ and  _ zings  _ creating a terrible cacophony of noise. My heart slammed inside my chest at what could have almost become. If it hadn’t been for that overeager archer, attempting to take down the High Lord in one shot, then I would have been killed as those arrows were surely aiming for the kill. 

Hybern would appreciate me taken live but in the end, a dead High Lord was one less he needed to take care of. 

I redoubled the energy I pushed out. The shield wouldn’t hold against magic but all magic-bearing fae could physically manifest their magic. In this case, mine became a wall that would prevent them from advancing. They were either shooting blind or hoped I’d weaken and drop my magic as I felt the hundreds of arrows, steadily approaching thousands hit my shield.

I was at the front of the left flank so it was up to me to push them back. Magic poured from me like water over a cliff’s edge and I advanced under the protective guarantee. I gripped the pommel of my sword to steady my riotous body. I didn’t look to see how many Dark Bringers had fallen from the initial hit. 

It made no sense to set up archers in the forest. Aiming at the Illyrians or Peregryns made sense, they could use their magic shields but only Cassian and Azriel could indefinitely. The rest had to make due with evasive maneuvers which made the fight more a game of luck and chance. In the woods we were surrounded by trees and they had sent their own soldiers ahead, knowing they’d cut them down a moment later with arrows. The High Lords would dominate the field by casting a shield and forcing Hybern’s troops back. None of Hybern’s grunts would possess magic strong enough, or in large quantities, to bring down the magical shield I had raised. They’d need someone more powerful. There was no advantage to the tactic unless they had a High Fae, lying in wait. 

My thoughts preceded the shatter of my magical shield that reverberated through my body. I clenched my jaw shut to keep my teeth from rattling to the point of ache. My grip tightened on my sword. The arrows came again but this time I could not raise my shield again. Whatever had shattered it was powerful and had enough magic to prove it. I’d need my magic for the fight. 

I slipped into Azriel and Cassian’s minds, finding them circling above. Their thoughts were a stream of curses and battle strategies.  _ I’ll need one of you to ground and protect the Dark Bringers with your magic.  _

My order was met with another string of curses and grumbles. Azriel pulled away after a few choice insults directed at me. My lips twinged in a smile that never quite made it. 

My opponent wasted no time in making their appearance. General Mahon had not aged well but he had grown in size, if ever possible. His barrel chest curved his armor outward in a way that was wholly unnatural. He still carried his war hammer and for that, I thanked his small, brutish mind for choosing a weapon so ill equipped against a sword. Though he rarely needed to consider battle tactics when his reach was as wide as four men across. One hit of that hammer was all he needed to cave a male’s chest in.

I’d have to be fast. 

The only part of the General I could appreciate besides his lack of intellect was his quiet, murderous look. He recognized me immediately, grunted by way of a greeting and charged. Magic coated him like a second armor. His hammer was raised halfway above his head and ready to bash my skull in. If he was going to use magic, I’d fight equally dirty. I set to work on his mental shields and in the meantime, I casted the forest in complete darkness. Fae could see in the dark but none so quite as well as I did. 

He adjusted course remarkably well. When he reached me, his hammer was a hand’s breadth from my shoulder as I spun out of reach. Dancing around him would only work so well as he could not follow. He had a second arm and it would catch me if I let it. I pulled my sword across his body but struck armor, sending sparks flying. 

He hadn’t predicted such a quick attack, grunting in annoyance. He fit the role of mindless brute too well. His mind was like a rock and I was beginning to think he had no thoughts. Minds as stubborn as his wouldn’t succumb to illusions too quickly. Mine would have to be convincing to confuse him long enough for me to gain entrance to his inner organs. His magic buffered me back, ensuring I couldn’t step in as he recoiled and prepared for a second swing. I hardened mine to a shield and hammered against him too. The clash sent violent orange sparks into the darkness, lighting our faces and giving his eyes a terrible glean. They darted around and picked out details from our surroundings. 

Sweat prickled my forehead. 

Arrows flew and I raised my personal shield. They bounced off harmless. General Mahon’s magic coated his skin and each arrow shattered as they came. We flew together again. He swung his hammer up and I stepped around, thrusting my sword towards the gap in his armor. His magic prevented the blade from cutting any deeper than armor but the scattering of magic served to enrage him.

More arrows flew and we pulsed our magic. His swing came quicker. I laughed for no other reason than to unsettle him. I laughed at his rock-like mind, at his heavy handed strikes and mostly because his face looked squashed. It worked well. He raised his hammer, both hands going onto the handle, and swung it down in a great arch meant to crush my head. If my head had been there to collide with as he intended, it would have been a killing blow. 

But I stepped into his range, summoned my magic to my skin and forced my sword through his heavy plate. Our magic struck each other and crackled like lightening and thunder during a storm, a phantom wind blowing against my hair. I never took my eyes from his. Even as my sword cleaved his plate and crushed his ribs on it’s path to his heart, they were beyond mine. Staring over my head and beyond me, brows furrowing slowly and then none at all when death came. His hammer dropped with a thud. His weight came crashing down onto me. I unsheathed my sword from his torso. His blood was already wetting my hands, traveling from my sword to my fingers. The slick noise hit my ears. 

A whisper too. It might have been a cry. Real or imagined, I heard it. “Rhysand.” 

I knew my mate’s voice better than my heartbeat. I spun, my ears reaching for her and in the process, ignoring the twang of a bowstring released. The following whir and thud as it connected. The way I reached for my mate saved my life. My left arm took the arrow instead of my torso. The arrow pierced my bicep and the tip broke off, shattered against my breastplate. 

My head snapped back. I groaned out at the pain. I reached for the mental bond but my magic was far from me now. Locked away like it never existed.  _ Fucking faebane _ , I hissed. 

More whistling hit my ears. I stumbled behind a tree's coverage and slammed my back into the hard bark, using the pain to liven my senses. My hand clutched the wound where the broken arrow protruded. It was far from life threatening but faebane had the dual effect of locking away my magic and disorienting my mind with the shattering pain of it’s poison. Flooding my blood and stoking a fire inside of me, burning me to ash. 

“Feyre,” I called out, glancing at where I had heard her. The forest remained a sea of greens that my eyes got increasingly lost in. I looked for her armor, the silver shoulders or the tail of her braid. Nothing came to me. She didn’t call out again. 

Like an idiot, I reached for her through our bond to no avail. In an even more embarrassing lapse of judgement, I reached for Azriel’s when that didn’t work. 

Azriel must have seen the shot. He came crashing through the trees, landing on uneven footing as he flew through the dense foliage. His blue shield was thrown far out to protect from arrows. I winced at how his wings bent from the tight space back but they snapped to his spine the moment he was on the ground. “Rhysand,” he called. His eyes searched me out, he stormed to my side. 

“It had faebane,” I grunted, heaving my chest. Sweat was trickling from my forehead. They practically crafted the arrow from the stuff if it was burning me so completely. 

“I thought as much,” he assessed the wound before glancing at me for permission. I nodded and he ripped out the arrow. He raised his hand, blue magic streaming off in smoky tendrils to cauterize but I stopped him. I’d heal in time. We needed his magic when I had none. 

“Where is Feyre?” 

His brows furrowed. His eyes studied mine, shoulders going straight. His shadows flared as he searched every dark crevice in the forest. “The right flank,” he confirmed, head nodding. 

“That can’t be right. Where-” 

“We’ll send Cassian. We need to move,” he shook his head, hand reaching out to transport us through the shadows. 


	121. Nurture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added to this chapter (started at the chapter break '~~')   
> Thank you for being patient :) 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

“Hit by what?” I asked, all my muscles were so rigid until my spine hurt. The heat of Varian’s blood had long since frozen which left me sticky and in a cold sweat. Cassian’s arms felt like steel bars even though he held me more delicately than what was reasonable, or safe. My chest was going to sink in. The mental bond between Rhysand and I hadn’t been quiet, it had been dark. The more I looked, the emptier the darkness seemed. The vast space that existed between Rhysand and I had only grown to a distance that seemed uncrossable. 

It could mean faebane and it could mean a wound far more grievous than Cassian would ever mention to me. His eyes cut to mine, lips pulling downwards. My heart stuttered. 

The air no longer felt freeing. I couldn’t pull breath from the thin air that hurt my lungs to breathe in. In all the time we had fought together, Rhysand hadn’t been hurt once. Not this severely. The day I am no longer by his side and he gets injured. I had been dreading our separation for N’simura and Adriata and now, I felt validated with no satisfaction. My hands practically twitched. I wanted to get a hold of Rhysand and never let him go. 

I was descending into my own nerves the more I thought. Cassian knew it too. His eyes shifted uncomfortably to me, sensing my anxiety and taking it on as his own. I was chewing on my lip savagely, ready to bite the thing off. 

“An arrow. It was tipped in faebane.” I opened my mouth but he interrupted, “It was only through the arm. He’ll be fine. They are stitching him up now. Azriel’s got him.” I could only nod, eagerly sucking in the information. If he was fine then why did I feel like it was the end of the world? Why did I feel like I had just lost a piece I’d never get back? Doom was hanging over my shoulder. It weighed my chest down further. Breathing was difficult. If I didn’t see Rhysand soon, if I didn’t confirm that my family was safe, Cassian would deliver me unconscious. 

I thought of Lucien, left at the Winter Court without knowing where we went. I bit my lip. My eyes went to the forest that sped along in a blur of green below. My eyes went over Cassian’s shoulder as he descended, wind whipping past my face. My mind was not my own anymore. I felt too much was happening and I was completely powerless to stop it. I needed my mate. As my mind shut off when I laid in his arms at night, so did my worries. I trusted my mind would cease the moment I laid eyes on him.

“What are you thinking? Rhysand will be alright. He’s too stubborn to be felled by an arrow you know,” Cassian’s voice trailed off. I could tell he was doing his best not to pry. Whatever distance had separated us earlier had vanished. Nothing like a near death experience to sober us back into speaking. 

“Lucien, he’s back at the-” 

“I’ll go back for him,” he supplied. “It’s my duty to get the Lady back first.” 

“If Rhysand is safe then I can return for Lucien, I’d just like to confirm-”

“No,” Cassian shook his head. I frowned at him. “You’re heads with Rhysand. You should be with him before you actually get hurt. I’ll go fight with Lucien or bring him back.” 

“Cassian, I can go back for Lucien. Don’t feel compelled-”  
“Feyre.” My eyes flew to his, eyebrows shooting up. “It’s my duty,” he said so calmly, so resolved. I wondered if Cassian had somehow overheard the conversation from earlier. If he knew how I struggled with the expectations of his position. _How could you ask him to go to N’simura in your place?_ “Lucien’s also my brother too.”

My heart softened a little. “I do not like you both on the battlefield so unguarded.” 

He barked a laugh, eyes lighting up on me with glee. “You get injured once and everyone starts thinking you’re delicate like a flower.” 

I pursed my lips. “You’re not a God, Cassian, believe it or not. You can get injured more than once and-” 

“And it’ll be my fault when I do. Can’t protect everyone all the time, Feyre. You gotta know that if you’re ever going to be a High Lady,” I started in his arms. Leagues above the ground, where our conversation was buffeted by wind and distance, the words were secret. He waggled his eyebrows. “If you think you’re the only one Rhysand can’t keep a secret from, you’re very mistaken. He practically shouted his plans to crown you at Starfall from the roofs of the House of Wind.” 

“Crown me?” I spluttered, nearly toppling out of Cassian’s arms. Cassian sucked in his cheeks and bit down hard on his lips. Eyes painfully wide and set ahead on the horizon. “He mentioned an announcement, not a _full blown coronation_.” 

“You’ll act surprised though?” he winced. 

My chest eased a bit till I could huff a laugh. “Apparently keeping secrets isn’t _either_ of your talents.” 

Cassian looked considerably paler. He grumbled, “Azriel’s spymaster for a reason.” I bit my cheek to keep from laughing, promising I’d never reveal Cassian’s slip up to Rhysand. Which would be difficult to withhold from my mate, as we did share a mental bond, and I’d want to interrogate him as soon as he was well enough. 

Luckily, it only took a short flight for Cassian to get us back to where the healer’s tent was erected. I managed to keep myself from descending too far into my panic and passing out. Which was a feat in itself because my lungs and heart had failed to obey my commands long ago.

The tent was sat at the border between the Spring and Summer court; placed so far from the front line that all sounds of battle had faded away when we landed. The healers, dressed in tans and pinks, were scurrying between the tents. The air was far from quiet. The moans of the dying mixed with those in pain. _So the battle had been more intense_ , I nodded. Cresseida would have taken Varian to the healers herself but I’d have to check on them. Varian was an invariable grouch but I still would like to believe he thought us more like allies instead of precariously positioned acquaintances. 

“Remember Feyre,” Cassian set me down, drawing his finger across his lips to remind me to keep the secret for him. 

I smiled. “Of course. Be safe.” 

His hand clapped down hard on top of my head, ruffling my hair. He cringed when his hand came back sticky from Varian’s blood. He wiped it off on his pants. “Azriel is coming too,” he nodded behind me to where Azriel emerged from a tent. Behind him was Rhysand. 

The dam burst. My heart sped up. I was a finger’s width from him in the next second, inspecting him. He still wore his armor which was expected after having just been dosed with faebane. He needed to be excessively careful now until we could assure his safety, as Azriel had been doing up until Cassian and I arrived. His left arm was bandaged expertly, courtesy of the Dawn Court healers, and appeared otherwise unharmed. Though the otherworldliness to his aura had completely vanished. He was more solid, like Cassian was. Usually, his magic emanated from him in a way that made his silhouette less defined like Azriel’s. 

I could breathe better. My mate was safe. The world wasn’t so terrifying anymore. All my worry had been ill founded but I didn’t feel embarrassed. I loved this male. The only regret surfacing in my mind was the time I spent feuding with him this morning. Our time together was precious. How ridiculous that we spent any time at all apart instead of addressing our fears with each other. To pretend we could solve our problems elsewhere was foolishness. 

Rhysand must have felt the same as his eyes scanned me over. I was far worse looking and I hadn’t been injured. “That isn’t your blood,” Rhysand said, voice low. His hand was stretched towards my arm, unsure if he would find an injury. The sight of me mixed with the stench of blood not my own must have been causing riotous confusion in my mate. He decided, finally, to pull me by my sword belt to his side. The contact was sticky and exactly what I needed. His grip anchored me in more ways than the physical. 

“Exactly who upset you?” Azriel asked, walking over. He was oddly pristine after coming off from battle. Only the glimmer of sweat on his forehead belied any effort expended at all. Cassian laughed from behind me. 

I felt like mud under his boots in comparison. “Varian got injured. He bled a lot.” 

Both Rhysand and Azriel nodded. “We saw Cresseida bring him in. He’s safe now,” Rhysand assured me at my worried brows. “But the healer said something about his skin being frozen…” Rhysand dragged out his last word, eyes fixing on me in a mildly amused stare. Azriel raised his brow at me. 

“It’s brisk out,” I replied lamely. At the moment, I was peeling off my gauntlets and a slick _sucking_ noise reminded everyone how dire the situation had been. 

Azriel huffed a laugh. “You likely saved his life. I should have known the blood wasn’t from an enemy.” 

Cassian shook his head and clapped Azriel hard on the back. “And to think we trained her so diligently. _Pfft._ Our little do-gooder.” I wanted to remind them that their ‘do-gooder’ had a body count that was growing at an alarming rate. Cassian caught my dumbfounded expression and smiled. “You got a soft heart, Feyre. Don’t pretend otherwise. See you later, brat,” he saluted lazily before launching into the air, scattering leaves and grass in his wake. Azriel tossed us a rare smile before following Cassian back to the battle. 

I was planning to turn to Rhysand and either hug him until I was stuck to his side or scold him for worrying me all day. I got to do neither. The softness in his eyes stopped me. I didn’t need the mental bond to know what my mate was asking me. We would speak in private.

~~~~

It was now up to me to protect Rhysand and my first task was to see us safely returned to the war camps. I’d not try winnowing to Velaris for the first time while with Rhysand, likely to split us in half. For some odd reason, my winnowing was an exhausting procedure for me. Winnowing barely registered for Morrigan or Rhysand except for when the distance was truly far. I wasted more magic in winnowing then I did when I summoned it to seal Varian’s wound in ice. 

“Hold tight?” I asked lamely. 

His lips curved softly, admiringly. “Not to worry about that, darling,” he replied quietly, hand tugging my belt loop to prove it. I summoned my magic and focused on the war camps. A great roaring opened up to my ears and my body swayed like gravity had suddenly changed directions. We fell through the dark space that linked all together. It was over faster than it should have been. I checked my magic and like I had thought, it limply stirred at my prodding. I would recover it over the next few hours but that was an excessively long time for what should have barely affected my magic. 

We were definitely in the Summer Court just not at the war camps. The temperature was remarkably high and all the substances coating my skin were slowly liquifying. That and the dense foliage had changed from flowers and budding bushes to plants with leaves that could cover me whole. The air was humid  _ and _ cold, an uncomfortable combination. 

“I do not understand how it always does that to me. It’s  _ easy  _ for you,” I sighed, ready to demand my magic begin acting as powerful as it should have been but my mate stopped me. He tapped his ears. I tilted my head to listen. Beyond the call of birds, I heard the steady  _ whooshing  _ of rushing water _.  _ The Andros. We walked a few steps to the north to see I had landed us across the Andros river from the war camps. “This is close but I still cannot see why I should have so much trouble on this,” I huffed, shaking my head. Any fae with a decent well of magic could winnow and here I was, High Lady and Heir to the seven Courts of Prythian and struggling to  winnow . 

I could produce fires hot enough to melt steel. I likely saved Varian by freezing his blood where it pooled. I’ve healed myself in the face of ash arrows. I Awakened my magic by breaking past Cassian’s mental barriers. Yet a few pieces of my magic hadn’t come completely together. My winnowing and daemati abilities being the two most crucial; I had long ago decided that my Spring Court shifting power should stay buried somewhere inside me. I couldn’t touch that piece of myself. 

“I have a theory but I would say it’s better you landed us here,” Rhysand said, smiling to me. I smiled back. We were both distracting ourselves from the fear we harvested. I knew it, recognized it. There was no going back. Danger was at our doorstep and all we could do was embrace it. We had much to speak about and this was only a prelude. I’d indulge it for as long as it lasted. “Because you need a bath,” he raised a brow at me. 

“I’d not argue that. Help me with my armor?” I needed no help but I wanted his nearness. If he came close, I’d make sure he would never leave my side. I needn’t have asked anyway. His fingers were already at the clasps. We removed my breastplate and vambraces but left my greaves. Most of Varian’s blood covered my tunic anyway that I peeled away from my sweat-soaked skin to reveal my breast bindings. In any other situation, any other day, it would have been a barely concealed invitation for further intimacy but today it was just my skin and Rhysand’s eyes were reverant. I heard him swallow. 

We left his armor on. Until I could shift my magic to the Day Court and produce a ward to protect my mate, we took no chances. 

We swam through the Andros. I barely felt the chill. Winter Court magic was in my veins and I greedily abused it’s imperviousness to the cold. The blood leached away from my skin into the swirling dark blue waters. I combed through my hair, untangling my braid to ensure nothing of Varian remained. Water filled my boots and made my strokes sluggish but I enjoyed the resistance. 

Rhysand, from the strain in his jaw, was more subject to the lower temperature. We made a quick path for the Night Court’s camp, cutting through the war camp to get there. My hand was on the pommel of my sword the entire time. I kept my magic at my beck and call, just barely swarming beneath my skin. Anyone who knew Rhysand or ever laid eyes on him would know the moment they saw him that his magic had been silenced. I’d eagerly remind them that he was no less dangerous and no less protected. 

But no one stopped us on our way back to our tent. The camp was still relatively empty. A pang hit me at the thought of Cassian, Azriel and Lucien left at the front. Cassian was right and yet ever since I became Rhysand’s mate, I had joined them. We had joined them. For us to retreat so soon felt like abandonment though I could see them arguing that. 

I put up the sound barrier when we entered, wincing at how that small manifestation of my magic still resisted my command as well. Rhysand remained silent, standing by the table we had almost lived by throughout the war. I belatedly realized he couldn’t feel my magic go out. “You can speak freely,” I nodded, sitting at the table. 

“I told you-” Rhysand started almost immediately but cut himself off, catching his words. He opened his mouth again but nothing came out. He laid his fists on the table, curling them tightly while his mind sorted through his thoughts. Though I was feeling wretched, I didn’t doubt that my mate mimicked my emotions too. His misery was in the way his shoulders hung, no longer proud, and how there was no relaxed smoothness to his movements. Everything he did was jittery and full of doubts. Finally, he sucked in. “I must apologize to you.” 

I had not expected that. “Rhysand what-” 

“Please…” he whispered, head tilting just enough to meet my eyes. He couldn’t utter the words. His eyes were strained, near red. I closed my mouth and held onto all my questions, nodding for him to continue. “When I first claimed you as my mate, I brought you to that beach and I promised that whatever you wanted to do, you could.” I opened my mouth to reply but caught myself before I interrupted. 

I remembered the free fall with him. The first flight of many to come and how safe I felt even suspended leagues above the ground. That day would forever be burned into my memories but I found that it was still one of the best days of my life. I had felt miserable, a wretch, for loving the male in front of me. After my injury when I first arrived at the war camp, I had wanted Rhysand with me. I had longed for our nights from the Bargain when he trained me, taught me and fed me all I wished to know of this world and of him. I had fallen in love with Rhysand when I was engaged to Tamlin and my conscience couldn’t accept it. My traitorous heart was worthless, devoid of all loyalty. 

Until Rhysand had announced that I was his mate and it all made sense. It was the answer my heart knew all along. It didn’t justify my actions but in the least, I could sleep at night knowing that I wasn’t fated to be with Tamlin. My destiny lied with Rhysand. I was relieved. I didn’t have to blame myself for failing all of Tamlin’s expectations. I could live the life I wished without any guilt. Rhysand made it clear that day: I was free.  _ Whatever way you wish to live, I’ll support you.  _

I remembered the conversation he recalled with astounding clarity; I never thought he’d use that shining moment in my memory as a battering ram against himself.

“You chose to return with me to the war camp. To protect Velaris and to become the High Lady to the Night Court,” he shook his head, sighing. “And at the first show of your commitment, I did not support you. I told you that you are my equal and I did not treat you like one this morning. I am ashamed, Feyre.”

The part of me that called to Rhysand as a mate wanted me to fall into his arms. To hold his face between my palms and kiss him until he knew he was forgiven for every misdeed he could ever commit, past and future included. But there was also the part of me that swore to act as High Lady barely a week ago that insisted my back not bend. It wasn’t pride or ego that kept my chin raised but by the cool understanding that I was acting according to my title. I would go to N’simura to protect my court, to protect my mate from having to divide his loyalties. 

I resolved to meet my warring sides in the middle. I reached my hand over the table, clasping over Rhysand’s closed fist. My thumb smoothed over the rough skin. He followed the movement. “Do you still trust me?” I asked him quietly. 

“With my life,” he answered solemnly. 

I couldn’t tell if the silent mating bond from the faebane was helping or not. We were mates but we were also leaders. This conversation was about our people, our Court. It should have been far removed from the feelings we held for each other, with a clear and rational mind. But that didn’t feel right at all because I loved the Night Court, our inner circle and my mate with equal ferocity. Cassian didn’t return for Lucien because it was his duty. Morrigan didn’t volunteer to guard my sisters when they were human because it was her place to. Azriel didn’t comfort me the night after I was healed because he felt compelled to. This discussion was painful because what laid between Rhysand and I wasn’t confined to our responsibility to our people. 

Honor and love were inextricably woven throughout my family. Rhysand and I were mates and leaders. That conflict would always exist which was why I could not force it upon my mate by telling him of Elain’s vision, forcing him to choose over duty and love. 

“Do you trust me with your people’s lives? With your family’s?” I asked. I could see him think of Morrigan, his last remaining blood relative he could call family. Of Cassian and Azriel, his bloodless brothers. Even Amren, who until recently had comforted him by sharing the burden of his power. It was one thing to trust his own life with me, that was his to give after all, and a whole other deal to trust me with the loyalty given to him. 

Resolve firmed his eyes and his shoulders pulled back. “I trust you to protect the people I love.”

“I will not fail you,” I answered quietly but matching his sincerity, his force. He slipped his other hand over mine. We studied each other in this new light. He was my mate and my High Lord as I was his. I searched for any detail that would change how I saw him and came away with nothing. The intensity of his eyes was a net that trapped me. 

How odd that the male I detested a year ago would be the one I couldn’t live without today. We had survived Amarantha’s reign and we would do the same with Hybern’s. After this war, I promised myself I would give this male everything he ever wanted. We had suffered enough. I wanted to bring him happiness. 

Instinct finally won out. I knelt onto the table to reach his lips, kissing him as I had wished to do since that morning. Magic or not, his instincts wished for the same. He pulled me until I wrapped my legs around his waist, his hands going under my thighs to hold me to him. I leaned forward in his arms, forcing him to stumble back and catch himself in a chair. I straddled his waist. He laughed, arms easily encircling my waist. “This would be more comfortable without my armor,” he motioned. “Would you assist me?” 

I kissed his nose. “I think I can do that.” I worked the buckles off, helping him shrug off the heavy plate. Next came his vambraces and he was right, I was infinitely more comfortable with our increased proximity. His scent puffed into the air when I pulled away his armor. My arms settled around his neck and I tightened my legs around his waist, ensuring he was effectively trapped underneath me. His hips lifted momentarily to press me. My spine was nearly liquid, all the heat flowing to my core. The warmth flooded me despite the Winter magic in my veins. I had to breathe out slowly to clear my thoughts. I rested my forehead onto his shoulder. “So, why does winnowing evade me? I would hear your theory before we take this further,” I sighed out, biting my lip at the hardness pressed to my slit. 

I thought the want, the need to be closer would die away. It did. When we needed to focus or fight or complete a host of other tasks but when we came back together, alone and basking in each other’s company, it surged back into us like it never left. It would reawaken and consume us both until I could hardly breathe save for when I was filled by my mate. 

He struggled too, voice strained. “Right now? You must know the answer  _ right now _ ?” he asked, hips grinding into mine. My head fell back and he kissed the exposed column of my neck.

“Yes,” I smiled, enjoying his long lasting sigh. 

He laid his lips at the base of my neck. “I feel you can’t summon your magic as a whole until you have used  _ all  _ sources of your magic,” he forced out. I straightened a little. “Like winnowing...sound barriers...anything that isn’t Court-determined,” he nodded. I stared. 

“And if I chose to never use the Spring Court’s magic?” we both were aware that I adamantly rejected it. There was an endless supply of reasons not to use Tamlin’s magic. The one that I referred back to was I wanted no connection to him. 

“That is your choice but it could explain the difficulty…” he trailed off, biting his lip.  _ Why did I let my curiosity get the better of me?  _ I scolded myself. His hand brought my jaw down, my eyes to his. “I will love you regardless. I couldn’t hate something that is a part of you, darling,” he assured me. He kissed me and this time, no doubts followed. His hands moved between my shoulder blades. Our hips met and we groaned into each other, swallowing the noise with our lips. 

But it seemed our intensity was to stay unsatisfied. Through my sound barrier, we both heard the approach of footsteps. 


	122. Rectify

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

“I have news from Helion and Tamlin,” Tarquin’s voice echoed in our tent. I tried to focus on it but my mind and body were humming rather loudly for my mate. Though his presence had a sobering effect on the both of us, Rhysand’s member was still pressing hard against my slit. His cheeks were pinkish but his eyes were annoyed, squinting at the tent flaps like he could smite Tarquin on the other side. 

“The male needs to learn manners,” Rhysand growled, nipping at the skin above my breast bindings. His thumb rubbed circles around my hip. 

“Perhaps you can teach him  _ after  _ we end this war,” I gripped my mate’s jaw between my fingertips to pull him away. He had a determined look in his eye, a brow arched delicately in taunt. The glean that promised he’d make me beg later for his touch. I was so eager I was ready to beg then but a certain High Lord was standing outside and I certainly didn’t want our Courts to become  _ that  _ close. 

I lifted to go answer Tarquin at the door. Maybe I could see to whatever news he brought and also spend time with Rhysand. I hopped over to where our bed was hidden behind the privacy screen and pulled on one of Rhysand’s loose cotton tunics that he usually kept for sleeping. Of course it wasn’t the cleanest nor freshest smelling but to me, it smelled perfect. Salted citrus and even hints of lilac coated my nose, my annoyance fading away. Rhysand smiled when I emerged, immensely pleased. 

Before I answered Tarquin, I looked inward to my magic reservoir. It wasn’t completely restored but I hadn’t used my Winter Court magic in long enough that I could open the gates to a different ability. I summoned the Day Court magic for warding Rhysand. Tarquin was an ally but I wouldn’t leave my mate so unguarded. I doubt Rhysand would like the fact I was planning to layer ward after ward on top of him but he couldn’t sense magic at the moment. 

To any other fae, my wards would look a lot like a regular magical barrier...that is until they tried to break it. It was an odd dichotomy, the role I had to play. Any fae could have magic which could give them winnowing or allow them to manifest it as sound barriers. Or as Tamlin had back in the Spring Court as a shockwave that had sent me flying. The power given to me was from their own magiclines that are kept within the High Fae families; to use any of their abilities would be a direct giveaway. The best I could do was disguise it as regular magic, like my Day Court wards as magical barriers. My Night Court power could easily be explained as a Daemati ability; not many fae knew the difference anyhow. My strength, speed and healing were innate and subconsciously used. As long as I didn’t step off the battlefield and regenerate an arm, I was largely unconcerned there. I had to play an odd role. Powerful enough to be Rhysand’s mate without ever truly revealing that ability. It was far too late to pretend I hadn’t yet magically Awakened. None of the others had looked too closely but I wondered when they would. 

Helion and Thesan seemingly know but haven’t acted on it yet. I wasn’t naive enough to think it was for lack of care, or allyship. 

Tarquin had time to change since I’d last seen him, covered in Varian’s blood, but the tips of his long white dreads were still dyed pink. He wore his casual clothes of blue and silver skirts, preferring to leave his chest unadorned.  _ I could have kept my shirt off and this male would barely have blinked _ , I jested but reminded myself Rhysand couldn’t hear me. I noted down my joke to tell him later. 

“What news?” I asked, stepping into Tarquin’s view and blocking Rhysand behind me. Not only because Rhysand didn’t have his magic but because he would need time to adjust his appearance. I had no doubt Rhysand didn’t give a single shit if Tarquin knew about our intimate behaviors but I didn’t think that extended to situations like the present. 

“Ah, Feyre,” he nodded, smiling. I could feel my mate’s gaze settling heavy on my back, listening in. “Varian is doing much better. The faebane should take him away for a day but you have my thanks. You are a friend to the Summer Court, indeed.” 

I accepted his praise with a dip of my head, my wet hair falling over my shoulders. I guess I wouldn’t be leaving Rhysand’s side for a whole day. Hybern’s stores of faebane were endless. We’d have to destroy them someday. One by one, we would sever Hybern’s limbs and when he was inept then I would sail to Hybern and take apart his castle brick by brick. I’d have to find an appropriate way to get rid of his body. I debated between grinding his bones to dust and leaving him in a shallow grave. The decision wouldn’t be left to me but I could dream. “It was my duty,” I parroted Cassian. “You spoke of news?” I didn’t want to be rude but I had goals for the time with my mate. 

His lips quirked downwards. “Yes. We should speak in private.” His eyes went to the tent. My time with Rhysand had to be cut short. I stepped to the side and motioned Tarquin inside, keeping myself between the two High Lords. 

I wondered how often the other High Lords visited one another, especially the Night Court. By Tarquin’s attempts to not inspect too closely and failing, I guessed not very often. The tent was kept rather simple. Bookshelf, table with surrounding chairs, trunks of our clothes, armor stand that we rarely used, and of course the bed hidden behind the privacy screen. Instead of feeling embarrassed that our tent might not have been up to snuff, I was proud. It felt silly but I was of our simple life. In a war, I was lucky to find any happiness at all; I didn’t need every amenity at my disposal. Asking for more would have invited misfortune as I already had more than most. 

Rhysand had adopted his relaxed posture, one leg crossed over the other. His sword belt was hanging on the back of his chair. I didn’t like Tarquin being so close to my mate. I slipped behind the table and ignored the other chairs. I sat directly in Rhysand’s lap, surprising both the males in the room. Rhysand’s hand swept around to hold my waist and secure me to him. I wouldn’t spend the entire meeting worrying over maneuvers to protect my mate with. If Tarquin wanted to go for Rhysand’s throat, he’d have to go through mine as well. 

Though Tarquin settled into his chair with peculiar ease and only the barest of glances in surprise. He mirrored Rhysand’s posture but his sea blue eyes saddened when they landed on Rhysand’s bandaged arm. “So it is true,” Tarquin shook his head. “You were also hit by an arrow. Cresseida said so.” 

I pulled my magic then. In slow layers of finely woven magic, I applied ward after ward to Rhysand’s clothing. It would take time and patience but it would protect him. 

“I was,” Rhysand nodded. My back muscles spasmed from how the conversation turned. The last topic I wanted to discuss with another High Lord was my mate’s injury and the implied weakness. I’d reveal all the magic I had to in Rhysand’s defense and not feel an ounce of regret. Those thoughts scared me though. Rhysand’s hand massaged my back comfortingly. His other hand rested on my knee like he could prevent me from jumping to his defense. The way his touch soothed me proved he very well could.

“That is most unfortunate,” Tarquin sighed. My teeth ground against one another. He needed to get to the point quickly. My fears were likely to take over if he didn’t. “As you both are aware, Kallias’s messenger fox was captured. Hybern has begun to move troops to N’simura’s defense. He believes he knows the full plan now.” 

“As we discussed,” Rhysand nodded, proving to be the more level-headed of us. I leaned into him for support. I wanted to ask where Azriel, Lucien and Cassian were. If Tarquin had returned, they could have as well. Rhysand pressed a kiss to my shoulder. 

“He’s moved far more troops to N’simura than we initially predicted,” Tarquin admitted.

“How many more?” 

“Enough that both Helion and Tamlin’s messengers ran through the night to warn us,” Tarquin shook his head. 

“N’simura is a decoy. We should expect a quick fight and an even quicker retreat,” Rhysand reasoned. It was good news that Hybern was mobilizing so quickly. He believed the lie. It told us how we had vastly underestimated how many legions he had at his disposal but at least now we knew our mistake. The more troops he dumped on protecting N’simura, the less there would be remaining at Adriata where our true target laid. I hoped in the next three

“If we don’t match forces, it would be a slaughter to enter that city.” 

“Lay siege,” Rhysand suggested. 

Tarquin shook his head. Each sigh he heaved was only further proof he had spent a decent amount of time considering the very same tactics Rhysand suggested. His own land was being used against him. It had to wear him thin. He spoke slowly and tiredly. “It’s a port. Defended by heavy stone walls that are much higher than the trees. We couldn’t enter by the canals. They could pick us off one by one through the narrow passageways that are the  _ only  _ entrances to the city. We need to match Hybern’s legions in some capacity.” 

“I can speak with Feyre and Cassian to adding more legions. We can assemble them and transport them for the battle.” It would be a very tight schedule to meet the battle in a few days but we had to make it work. I’d likely add more Illyrian legions. They wouldn’t be confined to the narrow passageways Tarquin spoke about. 

“The problem is that the troops keep arriving. They’re practically falling from the air.” 

We let the words sink heavily in the air, like the anchor that would drag us to the bottom of the sea. The plan was falling apart. We needed a distraction at N’simura and no High Lord could justify a slaughter on such a large scale for the Book. Not if it meant Hybern could easily kill us afterwards anyway. 

Elain had told me not to go to N’simura.  _ Was this what she had seen?  _ Hybern’s troops trapping ours inside and ending the war within one night. 

“We won’t be able to hold the city,” Rhysand nodded, hand stroking up and down my spine. For once, it didn’t feel comforting. He wouldn’t feel so at ease if he knew what Elain said. I reminded myself she had selectively referred to me not going but now I was doubting all I had thought.  _ The fate of this war cannot be hinged on semantics _ , I sighed. By holding this information inside, I could be dooming my Court and the remaining six to a slaughter. 

“Not if we planned to wait for the battle.” Tarquin replied. 

“Wait?” Rhysand and I echoed. Our comment was cut off short by the approach of more footsteps. Tarquin grimace but shook himself anyway, rising to greet whoever came to the door. I wouldn’t be moving from Rhysand’s side until all the foreigners had left. Rhysand and I were still pondering his meaning. Tarquin opened the flap to reveal Helion and Tamlin, standing uncomfortably next to each other. Besides for if Tamlin had walked arm-in-arm with Rhysand, that was another pair I had not expected to witness. Helion mimicked my enthusiasm at seeing Tamlin. But the room’s tension didn’t build as the three High Lords quietly reseated themselves as Rhysand’s table. 

Surprisingly, now that Helion had arrived, I felt like I had an ally in the room. I couldn’t envision it yet but I didn’t think Helion would abandon Rhysand. In any case, I kept my magic close by. Helion’s face remained blase but I knew he felt my magic,  _ his  _ magic, warding Rhysand’s clothes. It was now time to find out if Helion had any motives against Rhysand and I. If there was ever a time to betray us, now would be it while Rhysand didn’t have his magic and Tamlin was present as well. 

“I was informing Rhysand and Feyre about what your spies have uncovered.” Tarquin filled in. 

“We just returned from yet another report. The situation grows more dire.” Helion shook his head. He waved his hand and summoned liquor with crystal glasses for the table. No one poured except for him and I believed he preferred it that way. Once he had his glass in hand, he swirled it around. When he had finished with that, he summoned a plate of fruits and vegetables that he also didn’t touch. I could see where Lucien got his nervous ticks from. 

“Should we call another meeting? With all the High Lords?” Tarquin suggested, finally giving in and grabbing dried apricots. I suppose if Helion wanted to poison us all, now would be the time when the war was looking more dire by the moment. I followed and selected some dried mango that I tasted before handing to Rhysand as well. We would need trust at this table too foolish a dose. 

“It would take twice as long and yield twice the headache. I think not,” Helion grumbled. 

Tamlin spent a single minute examining my spot on Rhysand’s lap before laying several letters on the table. Most times, I couldn’t discern much from him. His mask of general disapproval and distaste was convincing and effective. When he sat and looked towards the table, a genuine look of disappointment was written in his eyes. I knew it too well to ever mistake it. “Reports from the troops we have moved near N’simura. Another four legions have added to the southern defense. That is what we can see beyond the walls of N’simura,” he began. 

“From the imported food, we believe there could be ten times that many  _ within  _ the walls,” Helion shook his head. 

“If we move fast, we can get to N’simura before Hybern has a chance to make it impenetrable,” Tamlin leaned forward in his seat. He pulled the map of Prythian closer to where he sat. “But we have to move quick. We leave for Adriata tonight, we can get into position in two days time. Perhaps less if Tarquin can manage. Hybern will have sent more troops to N’simura but we can’t give him too much time to prepare.” I restrained my reaction to Tamlin’s investment, schooling my face in neutral. He barely glanced at me while he spoke. 

“We can mobilize more troops in that timeframe, I am sure,” Helion nodded. “Thesan is quite practiced in moving large groups of healers. He can take the brunt of winnowing our troops in our absence.” 

We all nodded slowly, still bewildered by the turn of events. How soon we were being called to action. I would need to speak with Cassian the moment he returned. I flinched that it likely would mean he couldn’t return to Velaris tonight. After this morning, I didn’t want to deprive Nesta of her time with him but I was forced to. A pair of blue eyes brought me from my troubles. Tarquin’s eyes were settling too heavily on mine for my comfort. Rhysand’s hand was stiff on my waist. “If you leave tonight, Feyre will be acting in my stead. The faebane will be out of my system perhaps in a day.” I tensed when they all looked to Rhysand’s injured arm, proof of what he claimed. 

Golden, blue and green eyes stared at me. Assessing. Helion cleaved the tension with his musings, “One day I’ll find out how Hybern has managed to stock up on so much faebane and I’ll make him choke on it.” His eyes hadn’t left mine but they did to flick at Rhysand where my wards laid. Quicker than lightning, he raised a brow. “I have no doubts. Your skill on the battlefield is  _ indisputable _ ,” he laughed softly at some private joke. I couldn’t tell with Helion if he actually cared to hear a response. He could carry on a conversation with himself quite well. “I expect your daemati powers to be of equal strength.” 

Tarquin shrugged. “I could not call you unfit, not months ago and not today.” I recalled his promise. For my actions to save his people, he extended the Summer Court’s resources. That allyship has only strengthened. The satisfaction I felt was not small. 

I didn’t need Tamlin’s permission. Tarquin and Helion had already outvoted him but it was my mate’s eyes that fell on Tamlin without a glimmer of emotion. Only expectation. “And you? What do you say?” Rhysand asked, demanding Tamlin declare his opinion. This plan revolved around all four of us working together. Rhysand’s hands on me were still as if he could break me if he held too tight. 

Tamlin breathed in through his nose, shaking his head. “It isn’t for me to say but I suppose Feyre is nicer to look at,” he shrugged but it wasn’t nonchalant. It was full of struggle but still embodied all the needed information. He was extending a hand. A very tentative gesture at indifferent peace. 

Rhysand inclined his head, agreeing. “Just so.” 


	123. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my eyes are near bleeding. if this has typos, forgive me, i got like...half an eye. actually forgive me for all typos. my grammar education = terrible. thanks :)
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

Lucien was easy to find from above. Along with Kallias. Their hair made them practically incandescent. I much preferred that my darker skin and hair hid me well when I needed it too. I made a face at Azriel, flying to my right, and he shook his head at me. Azriel had a strong policy against humor on the battlefield that I never quite adopted myself.

After Rhysand was brought from the left flank, we had to combine the central and left flanks under Kallias and Tamlin’s leadership. Poor Lucien. When we landed, the High Lord of Spring was nowhere in sight. Though it wouldn’t have helped my opinion if he had been, I was more aggravated that he would abandon his post. 

Not taking an active role in battle strategy was acceptable. The male could be inept in those talents and by keeping his trap shut, he let the experts work. I wish Beron would follow Tamlin’s lead. What I could not forgive was abandonment: at best it was cowardice and at worst, treason. 

I landed harder on the ground I originally intended for, my feet burying a few finger widths deep in the frozen earth. We had landed just behind the frontline where Kallias and Lucien fought. The air Azriel raised a brow at me. “Would you keep your head about you?” he asked, summoning his shadow magic. Each tendril reached around his arm, tugging him like a lover would. “ _ I’ll  _ find the High Lord.  _ You _ just keep pointing your sword at the enemy.” 

I watched him disappear before jogging up to the front. I wasn’t noticed immediately. The Spring Court foliage was so damn dense, not as much as the Summer Court, but enough that I had to hack away to see where I was going. I missed the Illyrian mountains. Tall trees. Pine needle forest floors. Simple. 

I found Lucien slashing at Hybern’s soldiers. Every movement was well practiced, excellent form. Lucien had learned swordsmanship from masters at the Autumn Court and it showed. The way he moved made it seem like an artform without any of the brutality normally woven into Illyrian fighting tactics. All of his steps were a series of forms that blended into the next one. It wasn’t the first time I had seen Lucien fight with a sword but each time I had to appreciate how precise he was. 

I normally begrudged the idea of a sword master. The forms, clunky and stilted, only interfered with natural survival instincts. Lucien was a testament to learning formal swordsmanship. His instincts selected the maneuver required and his body simply fell into position. 

Not that I thought he had any more fun that way than I did.

A soldier, having just noticed my approach, charged me and I used the flat of my blade to ring their head. A spark of light dashed off where my sword connected with their helmet. When they stumbled back, my other sword was already racing through their neck.

“Where did you come from?” Lucien called, wiping a gloved hand across his forehead. 

“The Cauldron sent me to save your helpless ass,” I laughed back, tucking my wings into my back to step between two soldiers. They thought they could take me by attacking in unison. It was pitifully easy to divide them. 

“Hm,” Lucien grunted, he used his foot to kick a corpse off his sword. He had a small body pile going at his feet. The ground was scorched in some places. “No I think Nesta’s just trying to rid herself of you.” 

So taken aback, I stopped to stand and stare at the male. A soldier ran at me, screaming like a banshee and waving his sword like a flag. I barely looked to kill him. Some might call me callous but I preferred  _ efficient _ . “Look you little shit-” 

“There is a clearing ahead,” Kallias said from behind me. He was addressing Lucien but eyes fixed on me, clear disapproval written in them. 

I threw out my magic to guard our backs while we planned, my siphons flaring. 

His thin lips downturned. Lucien straightened to watch the High Lord but I barely turned to face him. His brow arched but he didn’t mention it further. I knew I’d catch hell from Rhysand and Feyre for interfering with Court relations but they couldn’t have expected much of me. Mor had her job of bridging the gap cut out for her when she returned. I missed her. “We’ll push for the clearing and set up a perimeter there. It’ll be hard for them to retake this land if we can shoot them down from leagues away.” 

“I can force them back with a burn again,” Lucien nodded. 

“Burn more to the east where Tarquin is. There is a stream to the west I can freeze them in.” He spoke stiffly. It didn’t seem like he was attempting to conceal emotion, just that he had none to speak of anyway. “You will help Lucien,” Kallias said to me. It wasn’t a command or question. 

“I will,” I confirmed anyway. I wasn’t likely to follow Kallias anyway. “Where is Tamlin?” Kallias raised his damned eyebrow again. I didn’t correct my statement and add his title. I had a role to play and fortunately, I only improved in my performance when I had the proper motivation. My seething hatred of Tamlin counted. 

“I’m not sure where the High Lord is,” perhaps the only emotion Kallias let pass was ire. “Do you believe Hybern has taken him?” 

That thought had not crossed my mind and I couldn’t say it upset me too much. Or at all. But the ramifications on the war and on Feyre, should Tamlin die, was enough to make me want to prevent that from happening. “Our spymaster is looking for him. We’ll know soon enough.” 

“Send word when you do,” he nodded to Lucien before winnowing out of sight.

“Icicle,” I grumbled. 

Lucien shrugged. “He isn’t so bad.” I was about to challenge it when Lucien’s flat stare caught me. “ _ Any  _ High Lord except Beron is a vast improvement in my view. I’d much rather work with Kallias.” 

“Point taken,” I dipped my chin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I made the mistake of nearing Lucien’s flames. I had been near Feyre when she summoned her fire and could withstand the small forces she called. I thought I was safe at ten paces away but all the hair on my left arm had singed off the moment the fire began. I swung to keep my wings further from the blaze, flying backwards in a hurry. As it turned out, helping Lucien wasn’t so much as attacking alongside the male but killing those that didn’t die by the fire. Which, admittedly, there were few of.

I followed him at a safer distance and dispatched with the remaining burnt survivors. I sweated heavily even at the distance. The way Lucien was carrying on, he was about to extend the clearing by a good fifty paces. He walked at a sedate pace with his hands outstretched to his side, yellow flames shooting from them to mark a line between Hybern’s soldiers and ours. All the light was reflected tenfold from his hair and eyes. After a minute, the air was filled with smoke. If my eyes weren’t naturally made for the harsh conditions of high altitudes, they would have been tearing or blinded. Yet I still could not look at the fire directly. 

When he had finished, the woods behind us were nothing more than charcoal. 

“I’ll ask Rhysand to give you a raise,” I whistled. I had been right. Lucien had cleared the woods up until where the treeline ended. Hybern’s troops would need to charge into broad daylight in order to reach us now. An easily defendable position, we even were uphill. 

“I guess anything besides nothing is a raise,” Lucien laughed. 

I frowned. “Rhysand didn’t...didn’t tell you he has been paying you?” 

Lucien grew serious. “No. I figured almost becoming a traitor to the Night Court ended all conversation of earning a position within it,” he reasoned. I knew Lucien was younger than I was but his naivety made me feel especially old. “I didn’t even know I had a position in the Night Court. What’s my title? Master of Fools?”

“More like Master of Idiots if you keep running your mouth like that,” we walked side by side back to where the troops would be. “Considering you are Feyre’s family, you could very well burn down the Night Court and Rhysand would still be hard pressed to punish you.”

“No. I expect not. He’d leave that to Feyre.” 

I was about to cite her soft heart but I recalled the night Lucien and Elain returned from the Day Court and kept my mouth shut. “Well. Rhys opened your account when he first claimed Feyre as you protected Elain and Nesta.” 

“Huh,” Lucien raised his brows. “He never mentioned it.”

“Probably wanted to see how long it would take you to ask,” I flicked my eyes to the curious male. There were many reasons why Lucien wouldn’t ask for such a thing but never having expected it in the first place reaffirmed my instincts to trust him. He’d never declared loyalty, and as Helion’s son he probably never would, and yet I found myself liking him in spite of the danger he posed. He was still my brother, beyond blood  _ and  _ Courts. 

Our conversation was put aside for later. Kallias, Azriel and Tamlin all stood together. Azriel’s eyes found ours, silently begging us to speed our walk so we could winnow away as fast as possible. “They thought to circumvent the left flank,” Tamlin said. His boots were covered in mud. All of his armor and clothing appeared disheveled. In a war that wasn’t uncommon but for the High Lord of Spring it was a rarity. The air was ripe with the smell of his magic: roses and fresh grass. 

“How could you tell if you were at the central flank?” I asked, joining the group. 

The High Lord didn’t miss a beat, eyes barely passing over me. He pulled out an oil rag from his leather pouch, affixed at his hip, to wipe off the blood coating his sword. “They thought to distract our forces with archers. It kept us pushed back so they could send who they pleased and we’d have been none the wiser.” 

“But the archers were what caused High Lord Rhysand to be taken from the field. Why then did you not return to the center after dispatching with Hybern’s ploy?” Kallias’s brows came together. His translucent skin pinkened a little in the sunlight. Suddenly, the High Lord of Winter wasn’t looking so terrible. “You left Lucien to defend the central flank alone until General Cassian returned from behind our lines.” 

Tamlin squinted back at Kallias, “It took longer to hunt down Hybern’s infiltrators than a few carefully placed kills. I had to shift to hunt them down properly before they could reach the Night Court legions. I did not return there because I was not needed.” I wanted to scoff at the idea a green male from Hybern could surprise a Dark Bringer but I couldn’t brag. Not while Rhysand had almost been killed by a lucky shot. 

A messenger ran to our group, bowing their head. Dressed in emerald green, it was no question who they reported to. The male handed Tamlin a package of letters before scurrying away. Tamlin didn’t speak before he winnowed away, head bowed towards his reports. I’d be pressing Azriel later to read those letters. 

“I will stay to ensure the perimeter is set up properly,” Kallias sighed. 

Lucien stared at the spot Tamlin had just been, adding absentmindedly, “He’s more tricky to work with than Rhysand.” 

Kallias gauged Lucien’s honesty for a moment before shaking his head, huffing an empty laugh. “You might be right.” He clapped Lucien’s back before vanishing. 

Azriel came to stand between Lucien and I. “I do believe you just melted the High Lord of Winter, fox.” 

“You two should give me more credit,” Lucien muttered.

“ _ Pfft _ , unlikely Master of Fools,” Lucien shot me an angry look. Azriel was confused so I tilted my head back and laughed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took several trips to help set the perimeter and bring in patrols from the Day Court. Since night was coming, I selected two Dark Bringers to keep watch as well. Most of them were from the same long lines as Mor and Rhys were. The magic gifted from the Night Court ran strongly in their blood and under the moon, it was only enhanced. 

By the time we winnowed back to the war camp, it was nightfall. We stopped by the mess to grab food before heading to Rhysand’s tent. I had several new ideas for N’simura and Feyre’s instincts should have had time to settle enough for the conversation. 

But Rhysand was alone in his tent. 

Without his magic. 

“What the fuck are you doing alone?” I hissed. My chest heaved. I couldn’t contain my reaction. It switched between fear and fury. All the possibilities that came to mind sickened my stomach. I hardly could look at my food. There were too many in this camp that would eagerly seize the opportunity. A  _ spy  _ was still among us and Rhysand was dancing with fate. I couldn’t stop imagining finding him, bled out on the floor like some common mugging victim. 

Even worse, Tamlin, Tarquin and Helion’s scent still hung in the air. Whatever the fuck those assholes were doing in our tent was irrelevant. All that mattered was they never return again. 

I scanned the room for threats but Rhysand was truly alone. He sat at the table of empty chairs, holding some dried mangos in his hand and staring dejectedly at the map on the table. 

“Do you have a death wish?” I stormed in, slapping down the plates I brought. Lucien and Azriel followed after. They took their chairs but I remained standing at some distance. I’d break a chair or possibly the table if I went too close. My head was spinning in a moment. “Where is Feyre? She shouldn’t have left you alone. Not while your magic is gone.”

“He’s not undefended,” Lucien shook his head, mouthful of grains. 

Rhysand heaved a sigh, waving a hand towards Lucien. “Relax. Feyre spent the last two hours pouring wards on top of me.” 

A second glance and I could see the shimmer of magic. “Even still-” 

“She left for Adriata,” he interrupted. All three heads popped up. My eyes were wide as disks. My shoulders fell down. I was too surprised to feel anything else but shock. I still felt like if I looked behind the privacy screen, I’d find Feyre taking a nap. Or telling me to fuck off. 

“She...what?” Azriel paused. 

Rhysand gauged all our reactions, dark purple marks beneath his eyes. The toll of this war was more evident without his magic adding that ethereal grace. “The siege for N’simura needs to happen as soon as possible. In order to get into position at Adriata, Tarquin would need to leave tonight. My abilities wouldn’t return till tomorrow. Feyre went in my place,” his words came out on long sighs like he’d been repeating them to himself all night. 

“Why?” Lucien asked. 

“Hybern is pouring more troops into N’simura than we expected. If we wait, we won’t face a battle but a slaughter. Any chance we have is if we can match his force and attack soon,” he explained, voice tired. He’d been over this a thousand times in his head already. Attempting to reimagine the plot and develop alternative strategies but coming up short. His head lifted a little and he looked at me. “We’ll need to add more legions to our strategy, Cassian.” 

“Yeah...we can do that,” I accepted gingerly.

Rhysand reached into his pocket and produced a letter, neatly folded. “Feyre left this for Elain,” he slid it towards Lucien. “She says that Elain needs to read it immediately and decide on it.” 

Azriel and I stared at the letter like we could read the letters through the page. Lucien just plucked it from the table where we watched it disappear into his pocket. “I’ll winnow to her at your leave.”

“Immediately, if you please,” Rhysand answered absentmindedly. No one moved. “I’d like to remain at the war camps until we attack N’simura. But tonight, we’ll all go back.”  _ To say goodbyes _ , I sighed. Nesta wasn’t going to like that. I had too much to talk to her about and only a single night to speak with her. It only made me more eager to see her, to sieze all the time I could. In a few days I would return but goodbyes were not her or my strong suit. 

“We understand,” Lucien answered. Rhysand pressed his lips together, following the sincerity in Lucien’s face. Lucien among us all could understand what Rhysand was feeling. All my conceptual knowledge of the mating bond paled in comparison to seeing it in person. The way Rhysand sat utterly resigned in his chair, resistant to leave the war camps even though Feyre was now far beyond them. I wondered if it wasn’t a small blessing that Nesta was not my mate while I spent all my time beyond her reach as well. As soon as I thought about it, I shook myself; I’d gladly endure the distance. 


	124. Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

Azriel and Lucien accompanied Rhysand into the townhouse. I could already tell Nesta was not inside so I did not enter. Her training with Amren must have turned her magic into a light; it was as easy to spot as a candle in the dark. I’d like to say goodbye to Elain but I needed to find Nesta first. It was a good thing I knew where to start looking. 

It took me a brisk flight to the library that I was beginning to appreciate more and more. Each time I found Nesta inside, she selected a different alcove for her studying. It was a game of hide and seek that she wasn’t so skilled at. I believed she did it mainly because she enjoyed testing me and knew I enjoyed the small challenge just as much. 

The library was deeper into the earth than taller above it. It was built around a central spiral stone staircase that must have been six paces in diameter. I skipped the stairs and flew down the center of it to the level where she studied. Per usual, she had a stack of books that I hadn’t believed possible to be read in a single day but she did it. Her notes were laid out in piles based on books sourced from and then divided by topic. Her script was impeccable to my eye. I wanted to ask if she would write my name out but I thought that was an awfully foolish request. 

She had tea set out before her so either she had Nesta or Cerridwen haul it from the townhouse or the library matrons liked her. 

She walked to greet me, setting a forgotten book on the table to stand in front of me. She’d taken to the Night Court fashion well, preferring long sleeved dresses with intricate embroidery on the shawls she wore. I’d be surprised if her favorite color wasn’t blue considering she wore it most days. Her hand rested on her hip. “You’re fairly late.” Some loose tendrils of her dark brown hair framed her face. I know she was scolding me and I should look properly chastized but I couldn't. I was happy to see her. I knew better than to try and kiss her in public but I wanted to. 

“It was a long day,” I admitted, glad I had taken a washcloth to my armor before returning to Velaris. I couldn’t stay there any longer staring. We had much to discuss and I didn’t want to let it wait. “Now, pack your books. We’ve got things to do.” 

She raised a brow, lips tilting upwards. “And if I say no?” 

I sighed, grinning at her unphased stare. “Then I’ll toss you over my shoulder and you’ll have made the library matrons clean up your mess. Doubt you’ll be getting any favors like tea after that,” I jerked my chin to the tea set still steaming. 

She bit her lip. “Fine.” 

But she took her time with it so I helped to reshelve the books she’d been reading. Each of them were based on ancient fables and lore. Some books were even the tales we were told as pups about the Bone Carver and the Weaver. Others were more about the great feets of fae long since dead. “Are you bored with your training?” I asked her when we finished. The last item she pulled from the alcove was her cloak, hanging on the wall. I enjoyed the sight of her slipping it on and that she wore it exclusively as her only winter wear. 

“Why would you say that?” she asked, laying a proprietary hand on my arm. I smiled inwardly. 

“You’re reading those books on stories.” 

Her eyes flicked away. “Unfortunately, stories are all I have. Not many accounts exist about the Cauldron. Some of these might have truth to them.” If what she said were true, then the Cauldron was hopeless. Most tales I had been told as a child were about fools who thought to take the Cauldron and ended up throwing themselves into the magical waters to never be seen again. 

“Find anything useful?” 

“Maybe,” she admitted, taking the steps two at a time with me. She had acquired a satchel for herself where she tucked her notes away safely along with quill and inkpot. “Though I’d need the Book of Breathings and one Cauldron to actually know for sure.” 

“Luckily for you, we’re working on delivering one of those,” I smiled. “Which is what I need to speak to you about,” I sighed, holding open the great wooden doors to the library. The streets were now covered in several inches of snow that had largely been cleared but regular nights made the cobblestones icy. I slipped my arm from under hers to wrap around her waist. Nesta was filled with unearthly grace that only doubled after being Made; I still liked to pretend to myself that I could prevent her from a stumble. “Today, Rhysand was shot by an arrow doused in faebane.” Her neck snapped to me, eyes quizzical. It was the strongest emotion she had displayed towards Rhysand that I’d ever seen. I took it as a good sign. “He is alright but his magic has been silenced.” I explained Hybern dumping troops into N’simura and the need to expedite all plans to Adriata. Which led me to concluding that Feyre had left in Rhysand’s place for Adriata and we were to remain at the war camps until we seized N’simura. 

“Feyre switched places with Rhysand? And you’re going to N’simura?” she asked, brows furrowed. Her reactions were hard to place. She could have been concerned or thoughtful. Her voice even suggested confusion. Nesta’s eyes were the real doorway to her thoughts and at the moment, they stared at our feet. 

I nodded. 

“I do not like you going.” 

The happiness I felt over her care was struggling with the worry I caused her. As General, I was duty bound to certain tasks. I wanted to spend all my time with Nesta, in Velaris or the Illyrian Mountains or wherever she was. I couldn’t do that till the war was over. Even after, I’d always have to leave her behind to handle some task or another.  _ Was it fair to her? To expect that she wait?  _ “I’ll be back soon enough, Nes.” 

She narrowed her eyes at me, frowning. My eyes distractedly followed the curve of her pursed lips. “That isn’t it. I do not like you leaving for N’simura,” her voice lowered, making me squint at her.

I forgot the idea of returning back to the townhouse early to lead her into Rita’s. It was another night of many that we enjoyed the familiar haunt. We hadn’t returned to it to dance but to enjoy it’s private tables that overlooked the dance floor. I found Nesta didn’t so much want to join the crowd as to observe it. That was fine with me as while she watched the dancing, I’d be watching her. The candlelight’s hazy glow on her skin. It was the most wistful she ever appeared to me when she watched the partners spin each other to the music. 

She never spoke about her childhood and I didn’t feel the need to push but I suspected dancing was something of a dream. Or maybe it was a pastime she enjoyed. I’d find out one day. 

This time, it was business as usual. I followed Nes, climbing the wooden staircase to the balcony tables that sat above the dance floor. We’d only gone a couple times and Nesta had already picked her favorite booth. It was at the far end of the balcony, by the corner, where we were furthest from prying eyes. I couldn’t devise a reason for why she picked this seat above the rest. Tactically, it was the easiest to defend. Otherwise, it was hidden and rather dingy. Yet she preferred it.

A waiter came and placed two glasses of beer on the table, foam dripping over the side. Nesta watched me sip from the glass before I set it back down. She then took my glass and sipped as well. “What did you mean by that?” I asked, not bothering to clarify. I knew when I was with Nesta she would miss nothing as her focus never left me. Even when she stared at the dancers, she was aware of me in a keen, almost third-eye manner. I had yet to study if this applied to anyone else or if Nesta selectively focused on me. 

Nesta studied me a moment, firelight reflected in her eyes. “Elain told Feyre to stay away from N’simura,” she waited, watching my reaction. I schooled my features to neutral and sat back against the wooden back of my booth. My wings were tucked in tight and awkwardly angled but I forgot they existed at the moment. “Feyre said she could not. If the city is destined to fall then I don’t think you should go charging into it. Feyre said that Elain only asked her to step away and that meant you were safe to lead the charge but that’s relying heavily on semantics. You should not go to N’simura. Find a different way.” 

I digested the information slowly. The morning felt outdated or ancient to me. Feyre had come from the meeting with silence as her companion. I was angry with her. We were a Court, a family and had no place for secrecy. I felt it was personal that she had chosen to keep Elain’s words to herself. Especially when that could have killed Rhysand on the battlefield if he was any more distracted. 

This revelation turned all my previous notions on their heads. Feyre had chosen to ignore Elain’s warning and continue with the plan for N’simura. It wasn’t hard to guess why.  _ Feyre and her damnably soft heart.  _ She’d face the consequences herself and let no other in her place. I didn’t know whether I’d hug her or kill her when she got back. I partly wished I had Rhysand’s daemati abilities for moments like these. 

I blew out a breath, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. I bent my head to pinch the bridge of my nose. This knowledge fucked me. To tell Rhysand was to betray Feyre but to keep it secret, I would betray him. _Fuck_. 

“I know Elain only mentioned Feyre,” Nesta continued, brows forming a crease as she watched me. “But if Feyre was...hurt in N’simura, what does that say about everyone else? You all have described her magic to be powerful. If she was hurt then you could all be much worse. Going in her place wouldn’t have fixed anything-”

“I am General of the Night Court,” I whispered. She stopped speaking, jaw going taunt. “Nes...I am General. Feyre should have asked me to lead the charge. It’s my duty.” 

“Your duty to protect the Night Court and you can’t do that if you’re dead,” she bit out, eyes red and strained. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table like she’d toss it away to get to me. My ears were caught by the sound of her racing heart, her new sweat and fear that coated her skin like a second layer of clothing. 

“Nes,” I placed my hand over hers. We both stared at the contact. Behind closed doors, Nesta had no issue with closeness and intimacy. She remained modest when we were out in public and only extended our affection to hand holding. The way she regarded our touching hands was enough to make me think humans had given hand holding a different meaning. Her cheeks were faintly flushed and lips parted. Only when her eyes flicked to mine did I continue, “It's what I am made for.” 

Her fingers tightened around mine. “That doesn’t mean you need to be risky when it’s needless. Attack someplace else...just not N’simura,” she suggested. It sounded so simple coming from her lips I was half-tempted to agree with her. I was powerless to deny this female anything and yet I felt as if all I could do was limit her. 

“N’simura is necessary, Nes. We need to distract Hybern from Adriata. Right now, Hybern thinks he can catch us...trap us in the city. He must believe we are planning to retake the Andros river to pave our way to Adriata. If we can win N’simura, we might just take out a majority of Hybern’s forces. End this war in a night even.” 

She nodded stiffly, both her hands holding my one. She didn’t comment that my hands were rough and still dirty from the day. I still smelled like the wrong end of a horse and she didn’t mention that either. She didn’t notice. Her eyes hardened finally while her thoughts straightened themselves out. She turned to me slowly. “Then torch the city and leave it.” 

I had long since shed my surprise that Nesta had a ruthless side to her. I hummed my agreement to her plan. “They are all hiding inside it,” I admitted. 

“They’d cook,” she concluded. Her shoulders were back with chin raised but her eyes flicked about, figuring out the details as they came to her amazingly sharp mind. “Any who left the city would face the archers. You wouldn’t need to match Hybern’s forces. Just enough explosives to ignite and a team to breach the walls.” 

“They could escape through the Andros. It’s a port city,” I prompted, studying her for all hints of reaction. Where her new instincts took her. 

She stared flatly at me. “You have magic for a reason. Drown them. Shoot them. Sail boats up the river and spear them like fish in the sea, I don’t care. They’d be out in the open on the water,” she waved her hand. 

I grinned. “And awfully vulnerable.” Normally, I separated who I was with Nesta and who I was on the battlefield. Tonight I was the same person with all my love of Nesta blended in with my darker, more ruinous side. 

I tugged her hand and she followed, pleasing me greatly. We stood from the table. Her other hand slipped into mine. It was her turn to pull me and I stepped before her, taking care to avoid her toes. We should have been on our way back. Our eyes met. I swore I could hear her swirling thoughts like a hum of bees or a stream of water. My hand encircled her waist so she was snug against my plated chest. Hers slipped up to rest on the pauldron of my shoulder. The music rose in my ears and I heard the drums, the rhythm. It was like a heartbeat. I could hear it. When she stepped, I followed and our feet made little neat boxes in the narrow walkway. I didn’t step on her toes once as we danced. It was fluid and easy, almost like Lucien’s sword forms. Her head rested against my hard plate but she didn’t complain. My eyes stayed on where our hands were clasped to my right and her fingers that fit so easily with mine. 


	125. Select

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) ya'll in the comments make me legitimately cry. It feels so sweet to read all your reviews. You all truly make my day. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Elain:**

I locked myself away on the patio after Nesta and Feyre left. Feyre had a reason for leaving but Nesta had practically fled. She didn’t want to hear a single word of what I had to say. For the first time in my life, my sister’s wrath was solely directed at me. Standing at her full height with her grey eyes, narrowed at me was harrowing to say the least. I had barely succeeded in keeping my back straight. I thought I was prepared for all outcomes but I was sorely mistaken. She’d taken my comment with a curt nod, slamming the door behind her and hadn’t returned to the townhouse since. 

Though she rarely did until Cassian came home, I felt it now had more to do with my presence. 

Surprisingly, after she had left, I hadn’t needed much time to calm myself. My tongue felt slack in my mouth but relief had slackened my shoulders and eased my clenched jaw. I hadn’t been scared of my sister. I was frightened for her. How much burden she was taking on by herself and that which she barely allowed others to see, including Cassian. I vowed to keep as close to her side even when she escaped me. Nesta had protected me for years in her own way, necessary or not. I wouldn’t abandon her now. Not her. Not Feyre. 

The cold air was oddly invigorating. I shivered and my hands turned pale but it kept me focused. Lucien’s warmth offered a safe hideaway from my magic; I could trust the light of it would always lead me back when my visions held me captive. The more I tried to summon my visions, the sooner they came but with varied success. It was almost routine that I experienced them when I slept. I continued to try to draw them out; the moment Lucien left, they would come. My magic would surround me like a fog. It wasn’t entirely confusing where I stood but I had the distinct impression if I stepped too far in either direction, I’d lose myself within them. 

The door opened. Nuala came to stand before me. She looked blurrier than normal.  _ A vision was nearing. _ “Would you like to go inside? It’s warmer since I built a fire,” she suggested.

“No...I need to sit here a bit. Thank you,” my tongue was lolling in my mouth. I wasn’t entirely sure I had spoken at all. Starting a vision was disorienting, new scents and sights appeared that hadn’t been there previously. A tea cup popped up next to me, sitting on a wooden table I had never seen before. The double vision I got, straddled between both worlds, was terrible. Nausea grew in the pit of my stomach.  _ Do not vomit. Do not vomit.  _ I swallowed spit, hating how my throat closed. 

Everyone had been startled by the presence of a Seer. I was positive that their faith in Seers was completely misplaced. Most visions were of people I had never met before but, as I had come to learn yesterday, I would likely meet them someday. 

Cerridwen and I had been picking out persimmons for Starfall. A female had come over to suggest we drizzle them with honey and feta. I had stared at her until Cerridwen had to pull me away. She had hair that was so grey it might have been silver, tinted with shades of lilac. She wore a heavy apron, marred by glue and woodstain.  _ I recognized her _ . I recognized the female I’d never seen before and would likely never see again unless by another miraculous encounter. She was a carpenter. She had a nephew and spent a decadent amount of time doting on him.

She’d also write a book on crafting furniture for waterwraiths. At least, I’d seen her write that as the title. How relevant that was or would come to be was unknown but I knew it was bound to happen. 

I thought all my visions would fade with time with how many I got. I couldn’t remember all of them. In that food stall, I realized that my visions were woven into my memories. Inextricable. 

I spent the afternoon in a haze. I wanted to cry but I didn’t have enough tears for everyone to receive proper mourning. They were all real. All the people I saw lived and would likely do or experience what I saw. It wasn’t all terrible but during a war, it was hard to ask for anything else. 

With my sisters, I resolved to strive and summon their futures. I didn’t contemplate if that was an invasion of privacy or not. If I did, I’d enter a debate I’d never leave. I kept put on the patio even when I lost feeling in my fingers and allowed each vision to take over. If there was a way to give them some direction, I hadn’t yet discovered it. I’d ask Lucien later so I kept patient and waited for them to pass. I felt their heart wrenching pain and the cool soothing sensation of their relief. Each one left me more exhausted then the last, experiencing the heights of people’s joys and sorrows was taxing. 

By the time I had come from my visions, it was full dark. Nuala had left me to my visions in the winter weather. And Lucien was not home yet. Nor Feyre. Not anyone. The house was decidedly quiet and if my mate had returned, he would have been in front of me instantly. He would pick me up and rest me in his lip, likely try to impart some warmth back into my now frozen body. 

I rose from my chair, stiff. Each muscle complained like I had spent the day kneeling in a rock garden. My clothing was frozen to my skin. It had snowed while I was away. A loud  _ snap _ came from my dress when I moved my leg, a plate of ice freeing itself to shatter on the porch. I wiped the back of my hand across my wet nose. My skin was so cold it chaffed from the contact. I gritted my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. 

I had only been slightly cold in my visions. 

The front door opened. I turned to watch Lucien, Azriel and Rhysand pour in. As I thought, Lucien strode immediately to the back patio to where I stood. “I’m sorry we were late-” he stopped himself, eyes scanning over me. I was still coming back from the haze. My head pounded and my throat was dry. I blinked back at him. “Elain, are you covered in  _ ice _ ?” he was before me, hands brushing off the layers. “You’re colder than ice, love. What were you doing?” his voice was more worried but I still felt chastised. 

His warm hands slid against my cheeks and I sighed, leaning into them. His eyes were lit like candles in the moonlight, glowing a soft golden. They traced my features repeatedly. “I had a vision. I didn’t feel cold in them…” 

“Did you just come out of one?” Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with how slow I regained heat; he tucked me against him, despite his plate and continued to diffuse his warm magic into the air. His chin sat on my head, one hand securing my waist and the other at my cheek. Bliss was instant. I nodded as a response. He exhaled deeply and even that warmed me more. I wanted to melt where I stood. “Do you think you could have a vision indoors?” he asked quietly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

I dared a laugh. “The cold helped me focus,” I shocked him. I buried my face into his neck. The moment my cold, wet nose pressed against his warm neck he stiffened. 

“We shall find  _ other  _ things to help you focus,” he ground out, suffering my intrusion with an impressive show of fortitude.

I only giggled. 

“I have a letter for you, from Feyre,” he said. 

“Why a letter? Where is she?” I mumbled against his skin. I felt him swallow and smiled. 

“Rhysand was injured, faebane took his magic and so she had to take his place and go to Adriata. She was his replacement.” Lucien had been Helion’s. A letter had been sent to Lucien’s tent at the war camp, our tent, and Lucien had almost missed it. He didn’t spend nights there anymore. Only because a Night Court soldier had made a fuss of the Day Court messenger did Lucien find out at all. In it, Helion had declared that Lucien would take his place should anything happen to him though the High Lord ‘highly doubted such a thing would occur’. To which, Lucien had dryly remarked that ‘Helion’s ego could give Rhysand’s a run for his money’. 

If they had already left for Adriata then that meant Lucien wouldn’t need to go. I was relieved by it even if it meant he’d be facing N’simura. It would be a bloody battle but he was needed there. “Feyre and Rhysand traded places?” I questioned, keeping my voice to a low murmur. Azriel would glance from inside the house in our direction. I trusted him and his curiosity to know he was the most keen to know what I had said to my sisters. 

“Yes, I dare say Rhysand isn’t so happy about it,” Lucien said, turning to see Rhysand sitting in front of the fireplace. The High Lord turned purple eyes to us and raised his wine glass, smiling tiredly. His arm extended and the bandage poked out, a badge of where he’d been hurt. I couldn’t help my frown. It was a small injury, so at odds with Rhysand’s power and yet it had hurt him all the same. It changed the course of events. Feyre was no longer going to N’simura with one lucky shot. 

“Might I see the letter?” I bit my cheek. 

Lucien squeezed his hand between us to reach into his pocket. I unfolded the small paper. Feyre’s handwriting was small and painfully neat. I stared at how foreign it was. Only after I realized how I hadn’t even read the letter did I shake myself and begin: 

_ Elain,  _

_ I’m sure Lucien has told you I am heading to Adriata. Most of our armies will be marching on N’simura. Rhysand. Lucien. Cassian. Azriel. Even Morrigan, if she returns in time. They will all be marching as well. If the city is doomed and we lose our armies, we will lose this war. I trust you will know what to do with this information.  _

_ -Feyre  _

I refolded the paper, holding it against my chest like it was my sister. If the city was to fall, she wanted me to stop it. She knew me when I was younger. When all I cared for was the beautiful things in life, like gardening. Yet even now she placed all her faith in me as a Seer to ensure that all our loved ones wouldn’t die in that city. I pressed my eyes shut. All their faith in an ability that was as fickle as I was. 

The King of Hybern had lost N’simura at the end of the battle. N’simura had burned in my vision. It would keep burning too but not our own soldiers. 

When I was ready, I slipped it back into Lucien’s hands. “Would you burn that?” I asked him. His raised brow fell and he did as I asked, sending the paper into the night as ashes. “Thank you for delivering that,” I smiled, rising on my toes to kiss his cheek. 

He smiled sweetly, brushing back my hair that was now soaking wet since all the ice had melted. “Come, love. Let’s go inside,” Lucien used his arm around my waist to steer me towards the door. 


	126. Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got some small fluffs before some action chapters, yes? tomorrow, we pick up with Feyre and her traveling band of idiots 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

All the snow Elain had collected on her person had melted onto me. That was well enough as I could easily shed my breast plate but my pants were now soaked. We’d both have to change and I’d be sure to find Elain waterproof clothing somewhere. I had a mental list that extended the length of Prythian of things I wanted to give Elain. 

When we stepped in, I recalled my energy back to me as we no longer needed the warmth. The air was somber. Rhysand was just a shell of what he normally was but I suspected some of that was due to damaged pride. No Court that prized battle prowess this much would tolerate wounds. He sat across the kitchen, in front of the fire with his wine in hand but he hadn’t touched it much. Azriel had been keeping him company but once we returned, he was on us in a second. I thought he’d take his business to Elain, she was the Seer after all, but his hazel eyes took me in from head to toe. “My shadows couldn’t get past your magic,” he stated, face impassive. The only tell of his true ire was a hint of a frown. 

I was taken aback. Elain regarded Azriel with unveiled curiosity, like he was another vision that was particularly confusing to her. He leaned in the doorway, wings taking up nearly the entire opening. His casual stance was completely at odds with the force behind his words. He hadn’t quite forgiven me for leaving the Night Court and breaking through the wards. Or at least, he was still weary of me. Morrigan hadn’t mentioned it the night she returned from the continent but I was not deluding myself there. She’d kill me when she deemed the time most appropriate. Undoubtedly, the secrets now Elain’s Seer abilities would generate would not help my relationship with the Shadowsinger. I’d have to try especially hard to win either of their good graces. 

A piece of my mind asked why I cared but all I could say was _because I do._

Despite his misgivings of me, he’d accepted my presence all the same. Another Court would not have done the same. The Autumn Court led the example of what they did to people who dared betray them, in ways real or imagined. I repaid this by spitting in their faces despite my best intentions. I could handle his ire. I’d just have to bear it until I proved better. 

I took Cassian’s approach and forced a smile that neared taunting. “I can’t be sure. I dare say some of my Day Court magic doesn’t play so nicely with your shadows.” 

His frown deepened. My stomach sank again. His wings tightened and relaxed a little; it was like a bird ruffling their feathers. I bit my cheek to keep a smile from appearing. Nothing got past him and he absorbed all my reactions one by one, the shadows at his side flaring. His eyes livened when he spoke, “You look like Helion when you think you’re saying something clever.” 

Rhysand had enough presence of mind to huff an empty laugh. 

“Clever implies I think I know what I am talking about and I know I have not the slightest clue,” I breezily replied. The way my voice sounded to my ears even I recognized I spoke exactly as Helion would have. My cheeks blushed a little. _We’d never return to the Day Court_ , I assured myself. 

I didn’t know what to think of Helion. I could only accept what he said of my mother as true until I heard otherwise. I hadn’t wanted to believe she would willingly return to Beron out of sheer duty but I knew that was her way. She was dutiful to the point of coldness; even when Jesminda was murdered, she had restrained herself to her throne with tears in her eyes. Yet, I couldn’t understand how Helion had come to accept this. She’d taken me with her and he swallowed that. Logically, the situation was more grey than I allowed but I had no rationale with Helion. 

He also behaved exactly as one would expect of a High Lord, assuming and entitled that sourced from a colossal ego. 

Azriel smirked but returned to Rhysand’s side, sitting with him by the fire. 

During the day, I thought when we returned it would be a struggle to avoid conversing over Elain’s visions. My nervous energy had only propelled my magic further; the flames were more destructive than I’d ever summoned before. She’d held a conversation with Feyre and Nesta that was as big a secret as Velaris was. It seemed impossible that Rhysand and Cassian would let the topic lie. Even Azriel was annoyed there was a secret he wasn’t privy to. Yet neither male glanced at us as I led Elain back to our room to change. 

I felt guilty for misjudging them. 

That didn’t excuse Azriel for sending his shadows to spy but that was easier to forgive as he left us alone. 

Elain’s clothing was so water-logged, it fell to the floor in an audible heap. Her thighs were a bright shade of pink from the cold. She’d pulled on new underclothes quicker than I preferred. I fiddled with the breastplate latches just to give my fingers something to do. While watching her I forgot I had tasks of my own to complete but luckily my mate was more perceptive. “You’ll be safe at N’simura?” she asked, pulling out a warm pink dress to wear from the armoir. She thought twice before sticking it back and pulling out a nightgown. She grabbed woolen socks and sat in a chair to slip them on. 

“Yes,” I answered absently, my eyes stuck on her fingers while they pulled the stocking over her legs. Hiding the skin from view. She glanced at me, smiling knowingly if not a little softly. I shook myself a little. “I won’t be able to return until after we siege the city,” I cleared my throat, finally finding the presence of mind to talk clearly. “I’ll be gone for days.” 

It was her turn to swallow. “I figured this would happen,” she mumbled quietly. Her fingers were stuck in her tousled wet hair, braiding it in a long tail down her shoulder. Stray hairs stuck out in all directions. “I guess we had been lucky before with you coming to see me every night?” she sighed out. 

“We’ve been lucky,” I agreed, tossing my dirty tunic away. I’d hurriedly washed earlier with Cassian and Azriel and that would suffice for the night. I wanted to spend my time with Elain. Her quietness set me on edge. I knew her magic wasn’t the problem even though full dark had descended and usually her visions began about now. Her magic was relatively calm, a steady breeze against mine. It was her thoughts that set her lips to pouting and hands to fidgeting. I finished changing and padded over to where she sat, kneeling before her. Her eyes focused on mine. Her honeysuckle scent was bogged by melancholy. I smoothed over the fabric on her knee. “Love, do you regret leaving the Day Court?” 

Saying goodbye tomorrow to Elain would be difficult but I never wanted to excuse myself from the battle. I had no right to be exempt from fighting Hybern. I would not be a coward. I worried if Elain would challenge my leaving despite her acceptance of it in the days before. There were only so many farewells I could expect her to tolerate. 

Salt stung my nose. She shook her head. “I don’t.” 

“What makes you sad then? I’ll be back in a few days, love,” I stroked back an errant hair. 

“You all are leaving tomorrow...and I...” she quieted, mouth opening with unsaid words. “I could march downstairs and claim it's all a terrible idea. Rhysand would listen. I know it. You all put so much faith in my Seer abilities that I honestly believe I could say whatever I wished and you’d all...follow,” she gulped, chest heaving a little like she might vomit. I steadied her with both my hands on either shoulder. She leaned forward from the chair to rest her forehead on my shoulder. Her hands wove into my hair like I’d anchor her there. I could feel her magic stirring but only brush against mine, greeting it. 

“Are you upset that we’d listen to your visions? Your advice?” I asked her, my voice barely a whisper. I kissed her wet hair. 

“There is no reason to,” she deflated, becoming heavy in my arms. “I see...these visions and they are all nonsense. I don’t have the knowledge or insight to know what to make of them and you all just _listen_ ,” she replied. I expected Elain might not like the position she had, weighed with the responsibility of overseer. Fate at her fingertips, only awaiting her decision to come to life. “What if I guided Feyre wrong? Nesta?” she asked, voice quiet but clear to me. Each syllable was crisp from the heavy emotion behind them. 

I sighed. The root of all problems. She’d make a mistake eventually. Someone would be worse off from her guidance and I wanted to believe my mate was strong enough to withstand the heartbreak. I wanted to believe the Cauldron wouldn’t have gifted her a Seer if otherwise. I pulled her from the chair to curl into my arms. Her breath came out shaky, face nestling into my neck and hair. “You can’t know all, Elain.” 

She laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know all.” 

“Your advice can be weighted heavily. You could stop Rhysand from deciding to attack N’simura,” maybe yesterday, Elain could have spoken and her words be regarded with a healthy level of skepticism. We all knew she was a Seer but it took reminding to understand what that meant. After speaking with Feyre and Nesta, she had reminded us all. Feyre hadn’t left that meeting white as a sheet for no reason. Her visions gave us a glimpse into the looking glass. Once she spoke, we all had the choice thrust upon us. We could listen to her and hope it worked for the better or ignore her advice and tempt fate. “But that is no guarantee it would work out for the better. There are too many variables. It is your decision what to act on but it’s also our decision to follow...and even then we will never know what the root cause was.”

“But that won’t matter to me if you all...if you die at N’simura,” she whispered. “I’ll have sent you there under the promise you will be okay. I need to know what the right thing to do is now.” 

I cupped her head to bring her away from my neck so I could see her face. Her cheeks were red. “Love.” Her lashes lifted, wet from her tears she refused to shed. “I promised to protect you till the end of your days. I’m not going anywhere without knowing you’re safe.” 

Her lips wobbled. “But shouldn’t I be able to guarantee your safety as well?” 

I smiled a little too tiredly. I thought I had said the same thing once before. “There isn’t any such thing,” I shook my head. “You will be successful and you will fail just like we all do. Seer or no, you are not exempt from fate too.”

She pursed her lips. “That is precisely what I am afraid of.” 

I laughed, letting my magic finally rise to meet hers in full. A burst of warmth entered the air. She sighed, laying her head against my chest. “Are you tired?” 

“I am but I don’t think I could sleep,” she replied quietly. Her body certainly was exhausted. She was all limp in my arms without a single muscle to support her. I couldn’t figure if her visions were exhausting her or her emotions, likely both. 

“That is perfect,” I nodded, smiling faintly. I stood with her cradled against me. 

“How so?” 

“Because we know two males in this household who also won’t be getting sleep tonight,” I replied lightly. Though Rhysand looked like he’d been hit by several runaway horses and then thrown into the sea to drown, he wouldn’t sleep. His body was exhausted but his mind was with Feyre. As for Azriel, I didn’t think the Shadowsinger slept much as a principle. It was up to the Cauldron to decide whether or not we would see Nesta and Cassian before sunrise. 

I carried her down the hallway, back to the sitting room where both males were unsurprisingly engaged in some conversation. It smelled of woodsmoke and salt. Spoken too softly for me to hear before we entered. They both looked up with varying levels of surprise, Azriel looking more so. I took a seat ungracefully on the floor, leaning my back on the settee with Elain settled in my lap. She said she wouldn’t sleep but with her eyes already half-lidded, I couldn’t see how she’d resist. 

“So what’s the topic for tonight?” I asked them, staring at the roaring fire. The fireplaces here were not as grand as in the Autumn Court. Those were taller than me and wider than a horse. I found I liked the modest sizing of these more so, just enough heat not to burn. 

A pause. 

“Mor sent a response,” Azriel replied. “The Human Queens accepted the High Lords…” he struggled to find a word, swirling his wine glass like it held the answers he needed. 

“Trinkets,” Rhysand supplied. He downed his glass. 

“That sounds vulgar,” Elain muttered. 

Rhysand laughed. “Okay then, offering.” Elain only nodded in acceptance in lieu of responding. Azriel poured his own glass before retrieving two more for Elain and I. I thought I should say that Elain would likely not touch hers but the Shadowsinger poured her an especially meager portion. 

“Well the Human Queens accepted them,” Azriel blew out. He somehow balanced recorking the bottle and three filled glasses. Skirting around the settee, he knelt before us to offer. “They want to meet in a week to exchange. Morrigan said they have ‘accepted her into their palace finally’ and she can stay with the offerings until then.” Elain selected one of the more full glasses, shooting pointed looks at us. Azriel and I exchanged a glance. I took the least filled one. We’d walked ourselves into that one. 

Rhysand scoffed. “Camping in a field for a week and they finally let her have a proper bed. I am surprised they finally opened their doors.” 

“I am surprised Morrigan _waited_ for them to open their doors,” I sighed, sipping the wine. Elain laid her back against my chest, holding her wine glass against her chest. 

Azriel huffed in laughter. Rhysand must have taken pity on me as he swept up the wine bottle to fill my glass to an appropriate level. “Should have sent Amren. She would have spent less than a minute in the room before they gave her the Book, the keys to the castle and all their secrets to get her to leave them alone.” 

“Why didn’t we send Amren?” I asked. 

“Amren might have lived since the dawn of time but she has the patience of a hungry newborn,” Rhysand sighed. 

We quieted for a moment, listening to the fire crackle. “What is she?” 

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “She isn’t fae but she lives inside one.” 

“That makes no sense,” Azriel sighed, seeming far too tired for this conversation to not have plagued him for centuries. 

“Magic,” Elain sighed. “She’s bright like magic.” I raised my brows at my mate. So did Azriel and Rhysand, both peering from their seats. I could see now why the Day Court had revered Elain, even as unpracticed as she was. Her words were woven with knowledge only she possessed which warranted thorough examination. “Kind of like Nesta in that sense. She’s fae but she has a lot of magic.” 

I don’t think I had been breathing for as long as my mate had started speaking. I don’t think Rhysand and Azriel were either. We all listened raptly but Elain had finished speaking. I smoothed a hand over my mate’s skin which she leaned into, sipping her glass. She sighed in contentment and I could smell the wine from her breath. Something inside of me was stirring. I wanted to bring her away then, return to our rooms and keep her safe. That was impossible but I wished it were, however selfish that made me. 

Rhysand leaned back into the chair and stared at the ceiling. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Azriel mimicked Rhysand’s surprise, leaning back and staring absently at the fire. When he felt my gaze, he stared me down with unseeing eyes. He laughed softly, “Not sure if that makes me less afraid of Amren or more so of Nesta.” 

**Rhysand _tsked_ . “Amren. Always Amren.” **


	127. Ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do love Helion's dry humor 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Tamlin and Tarquin had left as soon as they could so we all could prepare. I wasn’t sad to see them go. I had no desire to sit in Tamlin’s company any longer and Tarquin had been shooting me indiscernible looks throughout the meeting. While Rhysand’s magic was unavailable, I preferred the High Lord not grate on every single one of my nerves. Even Helion’s easy smile turned threatening in my eyes. My instincts could warp my perception so easily. I was aware that my quickened heartbeat, slight sweat and nervousness was all due to my instincts. Being aware didn’t help me control it any better; my fear had taken a life of its own. I could hide them from our present company but that was all I could do to help myself. 

Helion had watched Tamlin and Tarquin leave before he turned to Rhysand and I, still plucking grapes from a vine and popping them into his mouth. I was clearly displeased with his continued presence. My eyes narrowed and lips thinned. Rhysand seemed inclined to ask Helion something inappropriate just to get him to leave. Helion continued to smile genially like he was hosting us instead. 

After the tent flap closed, Helion’s ward was up. I thought myself accomplished with the Day Court abilities. His wards were as immovable as mountains; mine were like a stone wall in comparison. I had more to learn yet. 

My spine stiffened as if he had reached inside me and brushed a hand on the inside of my ribcage. Rhysand’s hand on my waist tightened like he sensed the magic too. Helion using his magic was like a siren’s song. My magic was lifting to heed his call; I willed my magic into submission and it heeded my command with no small amount of resistance. If I hadn’t summoned the Day Court magic for building Rhysand’s wards maybe my response wouldn’t have been as strong. Either way, Helion was playing with his magic and he was strumming my nerves like they were a harp. 

We stared at each other in silence until my mate could take no more, completely oblivious to what Helion was doing but not so to my reaction. I didn’t think if Rhysand had his magic that Helion would have dared. I was about to tug back on my magic just to see what I could unsettle in him when Rhysand sighed. “Helion, you’re normally welcome within my Court but right now, you’re cutting into my time with my mate,” as if to prove the point, he drummed his fingers on my thigh. 

Helion’s eyes slid to Rhysand like he had forgotten he was there. They trained on me. “Perhaps you may get away with pretending your magic is lesser to Tarquin and Tamlin. I caution you against trying the same with Kallias and Beron.” 

I didn’t need the mental bond to know Rhysand’s reaction. His heartbeat was in my ears, deafening me to everything else. “You haven’t betrayed my secret yet,” I said over the dull roar, letting my calm voice steady my mate. 

“Nor will I. I don’t care to see Court dramatics now...not that I particularly like that you also share my magic. Do you now share my magicline? I wonder,” Helion’s eyes were molten pits that put Beron’s fire to shame. It should have come as no surprise he would know the implications of me possessing his magic, even a small piece of it. 

I cursed my recklessness but I needed to know. “I likely do. Does that change your loyalty?” I asked. Rhysand’s hold was stiff and near trembling while he grappled with not pulling me tighter against him. He could trust me as a leader but we both were relatively beholden to our instincts. 

_ “Pfft _ , no,” he tipped his chair back, balancing precariously on its hind legs. It was one of the shorter backed ones, to accommodate Cassian and Azriel’s wings but he adjusted easily. “Afterall, you both cannot pretend with me. You know my secret. You have something important of mine.” 

It took me a moment. 

_ Lucien.  _

Rhysand was quicker. “Elain is Feyre’s sister by blood. Lucien is Feyre’s family by instinct.” 

Helion made an  _ ah  _ noise. “Yes, I dare say that makes me feel better but I wasn’t implying they’d come to any harm within the Night Court. Lucien has it in his mind that your honor is  _ indisputable _ , Rhysand,” he dragged out, shaking his head. A ghost of a smile brushed his lips. “You’ve become something of a role model though I have no idea how you managed it.” 

“You’re worried they won’t want to  _ leave  _ the Night Court,” I answered, drawing my own conclusions. 

Helion cocked his head, frown tugging at his lips. “They will need to eventually. One day I’ll leave this shit world and, say whatever you will, but my title will pass to Lucien. I won’t die until I know that much is true. He should learn about the Day Court before then,” Helion tipped his chair forward, leaning halfway onto the table. His clove smell had taken over the room. “The Night Court cannot become their home. Lucien, because he is heir. Elain, because a Seer has no business being anywhere else.”

“They’re my family,” I answered simply. 

Helion quirked an eyebrow. “Not everything we do for those we love, they will love us for. Still we do these things because they are necessary.” 

A day ago I would have taken offense. Those were the cold words of a controlling High Lord who wanted the world to go his way. Instead, I felt sad because I understood. Today I had withheld information from my mate, my family and did it despite their disapproval. I dipped my chin. “I won’t discourage them from returning,” I agreed. 

He smiled then. “You’re learning,” he got up then and left without another word. 

When I was alone with Rhysand once more, I could feel the weight off my chest lifting. Rhysand as well. I practically went limp against him. This mission to Adriata seemed more daunting when I simply wanted to crawl into bed with Rhysand and never rise again. “I can never tell if Helion likes me. Are we allies?” I asked the empty air. 

Rhysand chuckled deeply, kissing my cheek. “I don’t think Helion likes himself. Don’t take offense.” 

“That’s a common trait among High Lords I see,” I murmured back, nestling my face in Rhysand’s short hair. I breathed in. 

“Among leaders,” he agreed. My actions might haunt me but all the things I could have done weighed in my mind with equal heaviness. I could not be everything. Faced with all that remained, I worried if all that would be enough. We kissed again. “I will help buckle you into your armor.” 

I slipped off his lip and we went through our normal routine but only I was getting dressed. I traded my breast bindings for fresh ones. Rhysand’s trailing eyes were enough for me to hate whatever part I played in formulating this insane plan. I didn’t pull on one of my black tunics but instead selected one of Rhysand’s. If I had to not see him for days, I’d not be deprived of his scent for the whole time. It came down to my midthigh and was baggy where my armor didn’t hide it. 

“Feyre,” he purred, hands expertly tightening the buckles of my plate. His lips was just beyond the shell of my ear. “Are you attempting to piss off one High Lord and annoy two?” he laughed lowly, kissing my ear. 

When he finished, I faced him. He knelt on the grass floor. He propped my bare foot on his knee, slipping on my sock and then tying my greaves. “You mean to tell me I haven’t been succeeding in that already?” I asked. His fingers deftly wove the laces of my boots together making it snug. When Rhysand helped my armor was never too tight. I could claim it was the mating bond but it was centuries of practice. 

He stayed put, kneeling and looked up at me with delight. “I do love you,” he breathed out. 

“And I love you,” I cupped his cheek. “If you’re good and don’t get injured, I might bring you back a Book,” I smiled. 

“Bring Nesta the Book. I’ll settle for you returning,” he nodded. “You’ll be back in four days time. I don’t know how I’ll manage it,” he stood, both hands ghosting my silhouette to rest finally at my waist. 

“Easily. By focusing on not getting injured again,” I said, kissing his nose. He smiled but made no promises. I wasn’t about to tempt fate with promises either. He held out my sword belt with my scabbard. I didn’t reach for it just yet. “I need to write Elain a letter,” I said, moving away to pull out a sheath of paper.

“Is this a secret letter?” he asked. 

“Elain will determine that,” I hoped she would be able to act on my words. I couldn’t see how she wouldn't be able to. When we were little, Elain buried every dead animal she found. She healed a bird she once found with a lame wing. She wasn’t capable of knowingly causing pain, not when she could help it. This only helped her as a Seer. If anyone had kind enough intentions for this world, it was Elain. She would take care of us all like her garden. 

Suddenly, I wasn’t so doubtful of the plan. 

I folded the letter and left it on the table. I turned to my mate and cupped his cheeks. “My dear carrier pigeon, would you see that Elain gets that tonight?” I asked, smiling faintly. 

He twitched from the old nickname. “Yes,” he nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips. His fingers threaded through mine. “Yes, Feyre darling, I will be your carrier pigeon.” 

“Then I will be your thief,” I nodded curtly. “Stay within the tent...my wards will keep you safe,” I kissed him again, longer and more tender before stepping away. “Once your magic comes back, let me know,” I was near breathless from all the last minute details I kept feeding to him. Having satisfied myself that everything important had been mentioned, I left him to join the High Lords at the shores of the Andros. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I do not know what I had been thinking but I was resenting having come along. All four of us were crammed into the tight space made from the Andros pressing down on us on all sides. There was no room because every High Lord was built as broad as a house. On Rhysand, it was attractive but the rest of them only dug into my own personal space. I wasn’t small by any means but comparatively, I lost the argument for leg room. 

The air was moist. All our scents competed for dominance making it potent as well, like body odor. Though he had been a stickler for keeping his armor clean and sword polished, I knew the rotting smell came from Tamlin’s armor and not mine own. I could say mine smelled like mud which was leagues better. 

I could say with absolute certainty that wearing Rhysand’s tunic was a true mistake. By the time we actually made camp for a brief rest, it would only smell like dirt and sweat. That was wishful thinking. I’d be lucky if it didn’t reek of the other three High Lords. Though no one mentioned it and for that alone I could be grateful. 

Tarquin led us. Helion and I walked side-by-side and Tamlin followed. I ignored his presence for all that was worth. Along with all our scents, the combination of rose and rot was nauseating. I swallowed several times to keep from spilling my stomach. I kept my eyes ahead to ignore the High Lord in my peripheral vision. It wasn’t an advisable tactic that Cassian would normally scold me for but I was already trapped within less than a pace of Tamlin, in a bubble under a million tons of water. There was no strategy that guaranteed we would all survive if one of us attacked the other. 

Helion had worked with Tarquin so we could travel faster. When the current went to the ocean, Helion placed a ward at our feet and we’d travel at the pace of the river. When the current was against us, we walked. Throughout the night, we were blessed that the current kept towards the ocean. Tarquin had suggested he could reverse the current but that would be obvious to the ships above. 

As dark as the water was at the bottom, we could not see Hybern’s ships coming. Tamlin couldn’t rely on the fish either as they scattered when we approached anyway. It was up to Helion to keep us hidden with his wards. The longer I channeled into the Night Court powers, the less pull he had on my magic till it was a dull sensation in the back of my mind. 

After the first hour passed without discovery and neither of us had killed one another, the trip became considerably more boring. I wasn’t surrounded by my mate and family for chatter and laughter. I was marching to Adriata on a boring trip with High Lords that had varying degrees of hatred for me. Naturally, we marched in complete silence. I couldn’t hold it against them for being stone walls of silence as I was also acting this way too but I resented them slightly. I felt my mask was not as convincing. Cassian told me I had a soft heart and I had to wonder how visible that was. 

The longer we continued, the more I thought on Rhysand. It was dark, save for the times Helion would provide light, and so I couldn’t tell how long we had traveled for. Had it been a couple hours? Half a day? I could only tell by the knowledge Rhysand’s magic hadn’t resurfaced so the day was not up yet. We’d continue until dusk before taking a brief rest. Tarquin insisted we all eat before attacking Adriata; he’d made it clear we wouldn’t lose the Book because we were malnourished. It had been hard not to laugh at Helion’s expression of astonishment, that he would ever fall because of an empty stomach. 

I stowed these moments away for telling my family later. I’d skip the less desirable times. 

I was saved when Rhysand’s voice came through. I could silence all my worries then. I could also be happier knowing that the day was almost up. We would make for camp soon and I’d be able to be more than a pace away from Tamlin.  _ Tell me you’re safe.  _ I worried that he might not be able to reach me since Helion was raising wards but for some reason, he could. Maybe it was the type of ward, maybe that Helion’s magic and my own were one and the same. Either way, Rhysand was safe and could find me. 

_ Safe and sweaty,  _ I replied. I wanted to take off my breast plate. My skin was chafing where it met my neck since we had gone for so long without resurfacing. All the recirculated air did was make it hotter and dirtier with our breathing. 

_ And presumably gross _ , he laughed. The relief in his voice was apparent too. 

_ You can assure yourself I have found a way to get dirty without dirt _ , I admitted. I didn’t have centuries of practice to keep my armor spotless. Azriel and Rhysand were adept at it. They only knew dirt in the worst of battles. Cassian, I think, preferred a messy fight. He didn’t distance himself from the death. 

_ That must be a record _ . 

_ Or just pathetic _ , I admitted. My heart stopped when I realized my emotionless mask had slipped. I relaxed in the dark knowing it was unlikely they’d seen me smiling like a fool for no apparent reason. They knew I was Daemati so they could have pieced it together. No one spoke anyway. 

“We’ll make for camp,” Tarquin announced, redirecting us to the shore. I assured Rhysand I’d speak with him again later. My bladder was nearing painful and I desired  _ some  _ privacy after a day of having none. 

When we broke the surface, none of us held back on the deep breath in. The last light of the day was disorienting. We spilled out onto the sandy beach and quickly made for the coverage of the woods. As we neared the surface, Helion had extended his magic to check for any traps but found none. Even still, we all knew we had to be cautious. “We’ve already passed N’simura. The current was with us today,” Tarquin appraised.

“We should take tomorrow slower then. We can’t camp near Adriata until we need to slip into the city,” Helion shook his head. “We can’t risk a discovery like that. They’d know and trap us.” 

“Then we will rest here longer. We’ll move before dawn,” Tamlin said, stretching his arms. He stalked off into the woods without another word. I also direly needed to pee and I debated how reasonable a dip in the Andros sounded. I chose a different direction, walking a little longer than necessary to secure privacy. After having accompanied the legions, Illyrian and Dark Bringer, there was little modesty left I could claim but I was not with my Court anymore. Cassian wasn’t here to joke about wetting ourselves during a fight and Azriel neither to rebut that that it had actually happened to Cassian when a green soldier laid eyes on the General. Instead, I was with three High Lords and neither of them had a drop of humor to lighten the mood. 

I took a detour on my way back to the Andros and found Helion, washing dirt from his arms. He glanced up at me, eyes glowing golden in the pitch black. “I can’t determine what scent I hate most. The smell of rot and grime or of tension,” he shook his head. 

“You’re not too agreeable yourself,” I grumbled to splash water on my face but smiled anyway. I gave up when that didn’t suit me and dunked my head into the waves. The cold water was everything I needed, even if I had succeeded in soaking my armor and tunic. 

Helion stood up next to me,  _ tsking.  _ He looked back towards camp and I knew we were unheard by his next statement. “I should have asked Lucien to go in my place. Then we could have had a  _ real  _ reunion and this trip would have been triply interesting for you.” 

I was left scowling at the High Lord’s back. 


	128. Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't originally planned but I couldn't stop once I got started 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Cassian:**

Sometimes ideas are brilliant. Some of the most famous battles were won by a single choice that changed the tide entirely. Nephelle comes to mind. She flew under the shadow of certain death, a crushing ocean wave, and saved Miryam and the ultimate outcome of the War. A single decision made at the right time was all it took sometimes. 

Ideas can also mean painful annihilation when they’re too bold or too shortsighted. 

I was positive Nesta’s idea was of the former. Hybern’s troops were pooling into N’simura at a ridiculously alarming rate. If they wanted to hide inside the walls then they could expect to die in them too. We would burn them alive. It would take a small force of soldiers to deliver explosives and then have anyone who could light a match, Lucien came to mind, would set the city ablaze. The explosions would ensure none of them escaped by winnowing. Most of the soldiers wouldn’t have the magic to do so but Captains and Generals were taught to take their troops with them. We needed to catch them by surprise. 

I should have been sleeping. Nesta was fast asleep on my chest but my mind was wide awake. I’d pay for it in the morning but I hardly cared. I could  _ smell  _ the smoke from N’simura. 

I brushed my hand over Nesta’s bare skin where her spine protruded; she curled closer, face pushing into my chest. How she slept with her face pressed flat against me would remain a mystery. How she breathed at all like that was a miracle. Her hair fanned around her. I’d done a terrible job at braiding it purposefully so it would loosen and let me play with it. I threaded the locks through my fingers, weaving them in and out. 

Moonlight looked nice on her pale skin. She had no scars but her skin was far from flawless. Dark purple always shaded her eyes no matter how long she slept and her cheeks remained pink even if she wasn’t flushed. I could see veins everywhere I looked. It was practically paper. It was entirely too sensitive for a fae, got bumpy and red when she was anxious. 

I was fascinated. She looked so delicate when she slept but when she rose, somehow armor of steel and will found its way underneath her skin.

I didn’t mind my wings being pinned. It used to be uncomfortable but I couldn’t remember how when Nesta was laying on me. Her one leg wound around mine. 

It was our first night spent at the townhouse together. Every other night, I’d fly her to the House of Wind. Neither of us had established that routine purposefully; I thought Nesta preferred the House of Wind for many reasons. Privacy, secrecy or some remnant of her human modesty. I feared a little that she only wished to be with me when we could not be seen together. On the other hand, she danced and dined with me in public. Even then those were all strangers that she likely didn’t care what they thought. I felt selfish for wanting to be with her  _ and  _ my family but Nesta, by circumstance or preference, sought out the quiet from the House of Wind. 

But tonight my fears subsided. About to pick her up and return to the House of Wind, she’d stopped me with a hand to my armor. “We should be there,” she told me. Her eyes were serious and dutiful. I’d understood immediately. Rhys needed me and Elain needed her. I hardly bothered containing my grin and she didn’t bother to cover her answering smile, shy and small. 

We found Rhys, Az, Lucien and Elain in front of the fire with two bottles of wine finished between them. All of them were still awake. I’d expected that of Rhys and Az but not of Lucien and certainly not of Elain. But in my head, I usually pictured Elain sleeping. She had that look. 

Nesta and I joined them. I sat on the chaise lounge, throwing my wings over the back to warm in front of the fires. We’d need more seats in the house soon. The settee and chaise lounge was no longer enough. I expected Nesta to retreat or perch on the chair but she sat directly next to me. Our thighs touched. She leaned back and tucked herself neatly into the crook of my arm like it was routine. 

Rhys was too caught in aching over Feyre’s absence to notice immediately but Az didn’t miss anything. Yet he kept his eyes trained ahead, a small smile curling his lips. Lucien did the best by far of keeping his own face neutral. Nonetheless, his eyes darted to us over the rim of his wine glass when he sipped. Elain’s back was to us but I felt she knew too. 

If I hadn’t been too shocked by the sensation, I would have laughed. Laughed loudly, happily and maybe screamed too. 

Rhys prevented me from embarrassing myself. “How was Rita’s?” his smile belied his amusement. 

“Lively,” I said just to say  _ something  _ that wasn’t an outright shout. Rhysand’s eyes livened. He knew my thoughts were stalled. My brain caught up finally. “Nesta suggested something about N’simura.” That had their attention. Nesta stayed flat against me, her gaze was far off. When she didn’t react I continued, “Hybern’s troops are inside the walls. We’ll torch the city.” 

Rhys furrowed his brows. “They’ll winnow the troops out before we could trap them. Helion’s with Feyre and any chance of warding them inside.” My next thought was for Lucien to raise the ward but he couldn’t spontaneously generate Day Court abilities without tipping off a few fae, even when those fae were as dense as Beron. 

“Hybern uses explosives for a reason. We surprise them.” I suggested instead. 

Rhys flicked up a brow. “We wouldn’t have to match their troop numbers then.” He leaned forward onto his knees, staring at his clasped hands. His violet eyes were coming back to life slowly after Feyre’s departure. I knew the idea was brilliant. 

“How do we deliver the explosives?” Azriel asked, rubbing his chin. “They’ll expect aerial attacks.” 

“Then we attack them,” Rhys nodded, voice slowly rising in volume and intensity. “We give them the attack they expected, all Courts present and send in a few to plant them while Hybern is distracted. We can ask Varian and Cresseida where in the city we would need to put them.” 

“Hybern will expect us to send soldiers behind their lines,” Azriel shook his head. 

“No he won’t,” Rhysand said quickly. “Hybern thinks he has the advantage. He believes by hiding his troops at N’simura he can surprise us. He will expect an attack on the city and if we give him one, he won’t look too hard elsewhere.” Nesta nodded along.

We sat in silence, digesting his words. I was still sorting out what Hybern was supposed to know, remain ignorant to and be made to believe when Lucien spoke, “There are too many ploys.” He leaned his head back on the cushion and closed his eyes. 

Rhysand laughed. It made sense to him which was fairly normal as his mind was a series of trap doors. “Hybern thinks he discovered a plot to retake N’simura. He hides his troops inside the city to lay a trap for us. He expects us to attack the city in some way. If we believed we had the element of surprise, we wouldn’t bother with secret teams to invade the city. We’d just attack. But we know Hybern is laying a trap so we send in a secret team that he won’t see coming.” 

It made sense but just barely. “I don’t really care how many decoys we need to set up. Are we blowing up the city or not?” I sighed out, rubbing my forehead. 

Rhysand’s smile was answer enough. 

“Don’t look too excited or Tarquin will think you destroy his Court on purpose,” Azriel scoffed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I got no sleep thinking about that destruction but I rose from bed invigorated anyway. I’d go to N’simura, incinerate the majority of Hybern’s forces and return to Nesta in a few days. 

Simple. 

I thought I was stealthy enough to leave Nesta undisturbed but should have known better. I pulled on my clothes for the day where I’d left them the night previous. Nesta had fallen asleep on the couch and I’d wanted another night sleeping next to her before leaving for a couple of days. Once I had picked her up, she was awake then too. So it shouldn’t have surprised me now but everything Nesta did surprised me. I’d lost the ability to predict her next move. As a human, I could keep pace but now that she was fae I was hopelessly behind and just trying to follow her lead as best I could. 

“You’re leaving earlier than normal,” she said, head still on the pillow. I’d spent weeks confined to that bed. I thought I’d be sick of it but Nesta made it look inviting and new. 

Dawn hadn’t come but I knew Rhysand. He’d been chomping at the bit to return to the war camps. How he stayed still throughout the night was a testament to his self control. “We have less than two days to prepare. It’ll take that time to pull this off,” I admitted. 

She didn’t give any sign of agreement. She laid back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “I still say you abandon that city.” 

“We need to ensure Hybern doesn’t look at Adriata.” Because Feyre was there. Feyre had been willing to go to N’simura despite Elain’s warning; we needed to show her the same protection. With every passing day it became more obvious why Feyre and Rhysand were mates. Feyre wielded self-sacrifice just as willingly as Rhysand did which terrified and humbled me. I wouldn’t repay her courage with cowardice. We’d take N’simura. We had to. 

“Then surprise him somewhere else; you can protect Feyre with a different attack too,” I glanced at Nesta and raised a brow, tying my greaves into place. Her eyes were sad. “Elain’s words make me think the city is cursed,” she admitted quietly. 

During the night, I decided it wasn’t for me to tell Rhysand of Elain’s prediction. It was Feyre’s decision to keep it secret. If she was here, I’d have hoped to convince her otherwise but she wasn’t. It would only worry Rhysand if I told him now. Even then, Feyre wasn’t heading to N’simura anymore. Though, we’d have to talk about court dynamics afterwards. Two leaders were a little confusing to follow when they had differing opinions. 

I smiled softly. I never thought I’d see the worry she held for her sisters directed towards me. “The city isn’t cursed. If Elain gets another...vision then Amren is here. She can tell us. Or tell Elain to tug on that mating bond, I’m sure Lucien will hear even a continent away.” 

Nesta snorted softly before fixing me with her eyes. “You’ll come back,” she stated. 

“I will.” 

She rose from the bed and dressed quietly. Our words hung between us like a tether. Promises were dangerous things during a war but it didn’t feel that way. When I looked at her, I knew there was no other option. If she was safe then I could handle the battlefield; I’d kill who I needed. 

“So you’re not biting your nails over Feyre heading to Adriata but you’re paling at the thought of me going to N’simura?” I asked before we left the room. 

Nesta stiffened. “I’ve had time to accustom myself to Feyre’s predilection for danger.” 

I gaped. “I’ve lived for  _ centuries _ ,” I enunciated. “Three of those I was General to the Night Court. Feyre’s been immortal for less than a year,” as I said it, I realized how painfully young she and her sisters were. It was a hell of a time to gain immortality. 

“Even when she was human she was resilient,” Nesta raised her brows. She had a point. Even when Feyre had no magic, no inhuman traits, she had succeeded against Amarantha. I’ve always had my power. “She is strong for just her twenty years,” she nodded like that made her point. 

“She could be twenty one,” I muttered, like that one year made all the difference. 

Nesta shook her head. “No. She’s twenty. Winter isn’t half way over.” 

I flicked my eyes to Nesta. “When was she born?” 

“Winter solstice.” 

For the second time, I was gaping. “She was born on the longest night of the year?” Nesta quirked an eyebrow, unlikely to repeat herself. She crossed her arms over her chest, offended that I would ever believe she’d forget the date. I laughed then and loudly too from the way Nesta’s ears flicked. Nesta stared at me like I lost my mind but her eyes glimmered with amusement. 

That piece of information I’d store safely in case Rhysand ever found out I told Feyre about his plans for Starfall. 


	129. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes about the chapter: Jules is an original character, 2nd oldest son of Beron. 2 POVs, Lucien and Rhysand, in this chapter.   
> Tomorrow we take on N'simura. Whose ready?
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

All High Lords had set aside additional troops to attack N’simura; Thesan worked with a team of healers to winnow out all the troops exclusively. I was positive Rhysand or I or any other High Lord could have assisted but it was decided against. As the only High Lord not directly involved in the battle, Thesan’s magic was readily expendable in a way. That seemed like a bold statement considering his magic could mean life or death for any one of them but I, naturally, wasn’t given the option of speaking out. I was still a foot soldier no matter my birth. 

The closest I had come to the High Lord’s table was when I stood as Tamlin’s right hand. Even in the Autumn Court, I was the seventh son with no desire to improve my status. Now, I was heir to the Day Court. When Helion returned, I’d make a point of asking him what exactly he planned. Would he have let me go on believing I was the banished son of the Autumn Court and let succession of the title tell me otherwise? He didn’t seem like he had a plan made up for telling me but he should have been smart enough to see the obvious issues with that. 

_ Or irresponsible enough not to care.  _

As a foot soldier with a small elevation in status, I accompanied Cassian with the Night Court soldiers. Azriel said he’d come for me later and then vanished, not giving me a chance to question. 

Standing next to Cassian in front of the troops meant I had to appear as unhappy as possible. That wasn’t hard when Cassian only shouted orders and insulted you when you didn’t spontaneously see them completed. The first time he yelled I thought I jumped out of my skin. We were last on Thesan’s list of troops to winnow and Cassian meant to see us there on schedule. All legions were to assemble in full outfit but dedicated sections would be responsible for taking temporary lodging, healing tents and food stores. We were only supposed to be there a day but I assumed this was a part of Cassian’s  _ always prepared  _ attitude. 

I didn’t want to ask him and find out what insult he had in store for me. I’d already heard every other derisive comment. At one point, he had to run out of them but he was creative. 

My mask of contempt was easy to summon. Rhysand’s expression wasn’t entirely a mask. Still without his magic, he was forced to stand with Cassian and I as well. I thought Rhysand would take over the commands but he left it to Cassian. I could see why. Cassian was beginning to terrify me and I knew that all his bravado was an act. 

I kept silent anyway. It was only a few days. It would be a tense few days but we’d survive it. We started it off in the High Lord’s tent, marking the absence of three High Lords and Feyre, who technically counted for all seven. We all went this time since Rhysand’s magic had yet to reappear. Though Azriel was assigned the task of protecting Rhysand, Cassian and I were present as shows of force. Both Illyrians informed me that if I happened to burn anyone should Rhysand be attacked, they’d buy me a beer. Cassian seemed too eager to watch me do just that. 

I saw why they encouraged me within a second of Rhysand putting forward Nesta’s plan for setting N’simura on fire. Varian and Cresseida, speaking in place of Tarquin, had begun the shouting. One minor lord from the Spring Court had joined. My father continued to glare but hadn’t spoken up. I doubted he cared whether the other courts burned and it was more the better if he sent his sons to do it. 

But through convincing arguments, Rhysand got the royals from Adriata to relinquish the layout of N’simura. It turned out to be even easier due to the design. Several channels of water ran through the city that was used to deliver packages on specialized rafts. We’d pour oil through them and when we were ready, send little, greased packages of explosive powder down the waterways. The fire would take out the bottom of the city but with myself or any of my brothers feeding the flames, we could engulf all of N’simura.

The trouble came with deciding who would set the fire. Beron insisted Eris do it. Rhysand didn’t need to object. Kallias had openly declared he would not rest success on Eris’s shoulders. If Eris had been present, I think the entire conversation would have gone very differently. Beron attempted to push forward some other minor lord from his court but Kallias would have none of it. Of course, Eris and I now had to work together. Somehow my banishment made me perfect for keeping the Autumn Court in check even if it meant Kallias had to acknowledge the Night Court’s trustworthiness. 

And who would ensure we didn’t kill one another? 

Cresseida. Jules. Azriel. 

Azriel and Jules would represent the respective Night and Autumn Court. Cresseida would act as the neutral party. Thesan suggested Viviane step in Cresseida’s place, with Winter Court powers as natural opposites to Eris and I, but Viviane’s open disdain for Eris took that off the table. I also wasn’t sure if she hated me with equal fervor either.

After the meeting, the tension gave way to chaos and more pressure. I stood with Cassian and Rhysand, mentally preparing for working with not one but two of my brothers. If there was anyone less pleased than I, it would have to be Azriel. Though judging from Cresseida’s expression she could give us all a run for our money. I already had a plethora of bad feelings for the fate of N’simura and a  _ host  _ of questions for Elain. I knew she could never tell me the answer to any of them but, as her mate, it would take a few glances to know what her visions showed her. So I had to refrain from even questioning her. I wouldn’t risk her safety just because I was anxious. 

It didn’t help knowing I was actually their half-brothers. That made it worse. There was an endless score of differences between us that made the truth seem painfully obvious. Jules was block-headed enough not to notice but Eris wasn’t a complete idiot. He had a knack for secrets. 

“I can hear your thoughts from here,” Cassian grumbled to me, taking the moment of secured privacy away from the troops to talk like a normal male. “Would you quit your worrying? You’re going to make me jumpy.” 

I pursed my lips, scowling at an Illyrian that glanced at us. He spat in my direction before flying away. “It’s a terrible idea to put us three in a mission together,” we didn’t have time to mince words. 

Rhysand breathed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “What did you think was going to happen when we started talking about this last night? That all the High Lords would just  _ trust  _ the Autumn Court? Or the Night Court?” He had a point. It had been naive of me to think I’d be sent alone. 

Cassian didn’t smile but his eyes were softer. “You don’t have anything to worry about. You could have turned the Spring Court to ashes yesterday. I’m sure you can handle a single city.” I didn’t know how he could think I was anxious over my magic. 

His eyes twinkled.

I nearly dropped all pretenses just to punch him. Of course he was riling my nerves.  _ Of course _ , the moment I head off into battle, Cassian makes a jab at my ability to perform. I scowled and it wasn’t a part of my mask. Gritting my teeth together, I ground out, “You might worry over your itty bitty well of magic but I do not share your troubles. No. I’m more concerned that this entire plan hinges on my brothers and I cooperating.” 

Cassian’s face stilled and the mirth in his eyes vanished. Unfathomably dark, they glared at me. “I have seven siphons-” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” I nodded, eagerly taking the distraction of bickering over focusing on the true worries. 

“I will run through the next male who speaks,” Rhysand interrupted Cassian’s reply. His voice brooked no argument. Cassian and I eyed each other, only promising to continue this contest out of earshot. Rhysand kept faced away while he spoke. “Should your brothers attempt to irreversibly _ fuck _ this plan, Azriel can and will flay them alive. I do not care if we go home with their heads on platters; we will take N’simura and intercourt politics won’t stop us.” I could have taken offense to the summarization of the feud between my family and I as  _ politics  _ but I didn’t. Rhysand was worried. I wouldn’t hold it against him. Not if I had to stand still while Elain spent days with my enemies, like Eris. 

“Rhys, she’ll be okay,” Cassian sighed. 

Rhysand finally turned to face us but his eyes landed on me. “I do not care what you must do. Set the city on fire until Hybern himself has to grab a bucket to put out the flames.” 

**Rhysand:**

My abilities came back at nightfall and Feyre was my first thought. I had been attempting to reach her since she left the night before and finally, the mental link had reformed. Details from her emotions that her magic yielded were scoured; she’d left the doorway to her mind wide open so I could reach her. If I chose, I could have stepped into her mind but I didn’t go so far yet. I didn’t want to startle her completely. My second thought had been to apologize to my family for acting short with them. I'd really turned into a fretting mate and they had been good by not mentioning it to me. 

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” Cassian groaned out, sensing my magic that came back to shadow me once more. Not that I needed it as the wards Feyre had placed on my clothing had yet to disappear. Wards were commonly more fixed but she had somehow made them as dynamic as cloth. 

It wasn’t a moment too soon. Thesan would be winnowing our troops out next. 

Once we arrived, we’d be ready to fly. Cassian and I would take the head-on approach. We’d attack the city from the skies. Kallias and Beron would handle the ground assault. Any fae that managed to escape the walls would face their wrath which only increased the longer they worked together. Azriel would go with Lucien at my signal along with the rest of the party. 

The last piece was waiting for my mental link with Feyre. We’d lay in wait in the Summer Court, beyond the scope of Hybern’s forces and attack when Feyre signaled. We’d start the fighting early so Hybern knew where to direct his attention. I now had a day to speak with Feyre before all this happened, more time than I could have ever wished for. I thought I could handle the distance but the added pressure of the war and worry over N’simura had proved too much. I wanted this over with yesterday. 

I had even considered the merits of flying out to Adriata before the battle finished. Cassian was General, he’d handle it but that would have been extremely selfish. Especially since I received a report that Hybern had been seen entering the city himself. I knew what that implied: the Cauldron was also inside N’simura. Hybern was fortifying N’simura and expecting to surprise us. 

I passed all this information to Feyre, except for the Cauldron. That was only a suspicion of mine. She guessed it sure enough but couldn’t offer much else besides a grunt that her effort in Adriata better not be a waste. She reported consistent bickering while she ate dinner with Tamlin, Tarquin and Helion. Apparently, Tarquin had made the mistake of asking about rebuilding the Summer and Spring Courts. He’d struck a nerve in Tamlin and now Feyre was witnessing an intense debate over how Hybern’s wealth should be redistributed. 

Helion had made it worse by mentioning that the island would also need a new ruler too. 

Feyre kept out of it but Tarquin regularly asked her input. My patience with the male was coming to an end. I didn’t mean to fulfill the role of the territorial mate but I was, unfortunately, excelling at it. It was difficult to see the use of allies when Tarquin was blindly dragging Feyre into an argument with Tamlin. 

“If you’re talking to Feyre, tell her she should take the first watch,” Lucien followed my intense gaze at seemingly nothing while I listened to the argument happening leagues to the west. He built Cassian, Azriel and I a fire that I neatly shielded with my restored magic. There were perks to darkness that weren’t appreciated as often. 

Cassian scoffed, “I would be floored if any of those fae sleep at all. Tell Feyre she’s  _ not  _ to sleep, even if it’s Helion on first watch.” 

“Helion will watch over her, he’s not our enemy,” Lucien scowled. 

“I don’t doubt his motives. I doubt how fast she’d be if she were attacked in her sleep,” Cassian replied easily, not looking up from his bowl of charred chicken. He stilled when my eyes fell on his back. “Sorry, Rhys.” 

“If I can survive the past day, then I can the next,” I shrugged, using some more of my magic to blanket us in darkness and sound proof our corner of the camp. Azriel stared flatly at me. I raised a brow, straightening in my seat. “Yes, Az?” 

Az’s lips quirked. I was in trouble. His shadows flickered, like they were also hesitating saying his next words. He erred on the side of boldness. “Feyre’s the one who survived an ash bolt stuck in her side. I’d say you’re more fragile.”

Cassian and Lucien gaped before the former devolved into loud, barking laughs that tested the limits of my sound barrier. “Oh he has a point too,” Cassian shouted, chewed chicken spitting from his mouth. Lucien, who had been laughing along, now stared in disgust. Cassian paid him no mind. He wiped away all traces. 

“Are you an Illyirian or half beast?” Lucien asked, throwing a piece of his food to bounce off of Cassian’s head. That would have been a pointed taunt had Cassian not caught the chicken and tossed it into his mouth, smiling gratuitously. 

“Both, fox,” for added measure, he flared his wings. 

Az sighed, rolling his eyes. “More like a half idiot.” 

Despite the worry I felt, I found myself laughing along. 


	130. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 POVs in this chapter. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Adriata was a shell. Even I, who had never before laid eyes on it, could see the wrongness in the city by the sea. It was quiet and dark, no laughter or talking. No lovers taking midnight strolls or giddily dashing around the shore. The smell of saltwater usually calmed me so well, it was like Rhysand almost, but now it seemed to resemble rot and seaweed more so. Wind with sand whipped at my face and made my skin raw. 

We were hidden by the shadow of the forest, just south of the city, and Helion’s ability to conceal our magic. Tarquin’s jaw was tight. His eyes were hard and darker than I’d ever seen them before, matching the turbulent ocean to our left. I could feel a storm coming in from the water. Despite the winter, it was humid and the air ripe with electricity. It felt eerie to me that the weather should reflect the occasion. 

Adriata was nothing more than a silhouette in the moonlight but it might have been a rock for all the life it boasted. If I tried to I could smell the decomposing bodies. We wouldn’t enter the city apparently. Tarquin said the Book was kept by the shoreline and none of us thought to question that. He’d have to get the Book alone which was well enough as we all had tasks of our own. 

Helion’s was ensuring we got in and out of the city undetected. He’d wait where Hybern had erected the ward, guarding the city, and help see us across the barrier. Then, he’d shield our scents and magic. I’d mainly used wards as means of protection or breaking them, like I did when we got back my sisters and Lucien from Hybern’s camp. Helion used them like spare limbs to do tasks he couldn’t directly handle. Lucien had told me they were independent sources of magic but I hadn’t quite understood his meaning until I saw Helion weave a ward around Tamlin. If I hadn’t been looking directly at Tamlin, I never would have sensed his presence. Even as Tamlin stepped away and Helion repeated the process with Tarquin, the ward stood. 

It was completely different from regular magical barriers. I had to focus and constantly pour in magic, albeit a small amount, to maintain a simple sound barrier. Wards were as solid as buildings. They stood even when the fae didn’t. 

I was itching to release my own magic. I’d started drilling down into my Night Court magic since we made camp before. My supply was full and I was practically twitching to let a little escape. It would be a release of it’s own to build this illusion. 

When Helion built my ward, I barely felt the twinge of our connection. I was too far into the Night Court’s magic to feel his treatment. Helion’s eyes carefully studied my reaction as he worked. “Your wards will keep you hidden until I remove them on your return. That being said, don’t prod at them,” he said, pointedly staring at me. I wanted to say that I was already lost in a different Court’s magic but his warning was better heeded than ignored. I dipped my chin to show I understood. He smiled faintly at that. “I will wait here until you return.” 

“Not going to winnow back without us?” Tarquin smiled in a last-minute attempt to dispel the tension in our spines. We knew Hybern had placed wards throughout the Summer Court to prevent that exact occurrence but if anyone could shatter a ward while winnowing, it was Helion. How many of Hybern’s traps or plots could have been avoided had we all worked together from the beginning? I pushed that sad thought out of my head. I had to keep focused. Rhysand was waiting for the signal along with my family, our armies and the rest of Prythian’s defense. 

“ _I_ could winnow back but without the Book, what use would that be?” he acknowledged, no shred of humor to be found. It was the longest I’d seen Helion go without finding something amusing. “It is up to you three to keep yourself alive to get here. I do not care if we reveal this plot in the process. I’ll shatter Hybern’s wards as a goodbye present if I have to.” 

We all nodded, not daring to glance at one another. I had no desire to test out the theory of succession tonight. We all needed to make it back. 

Helion gauged our reactions with narrowed eyes but found nothing to give pause. With a glance, he’d opened up a doorway through the ward guarding Adriata. All the times I had touched wards, they flared golden at my touch. Raw magic always appeared in warm hues. Helion was more delicate, skilled. Like a surgeon, he parted the wards and gave off no light. “Your wards do not act as a sound barrier. Once you step through, it will be up to you to ensure you’re not heard,” he warned, watching us pass over. 

I was the last through. When I turned back, Helion was gone from sight.

Tamlin and Tarquin stood waiting for me. I nodded before I reached out to Rhysand, giving the signal to begin attacking N’simura. _We are entering Adriata._

 _Then we will now take N’simura_ , he answered in a voice far more confident than I had felt. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had to crawl through the forest. Unable to send out my magic to detect soldiers, we were forced into an unbearably slow approach. I wanted to lead it but both Tarquin and Tamlin were in agreement with me bringing up the rear. Without a sound barrier I had to spend extra effort in ensuring each step was quiet. Raising one would have been too tricky to keep while we moved. I also was sensitive about using my magic. I barely even wanted to call on the mental bond with Rhysand but part of the reason was to keep focused. There could be no distractions tonight. 

Every footstep was torture. The distant crash of waves on the shoreline and the dull roaring wind was all consuming to my senses that I stretched to the very limit. The rotting smell became taunting as it grew stronger. My night vision was excellent but I still double and triple checked where I looked. One solider calling out would fuck us all. We couldn’t afford for them to see us first. There were patrols in these woods. _There had to be._

In the end, my being sent to the rear had saved us. Tamlin had sensed Hybern’s soldiers first. He stilled and pointed. Ahead of us, two of Hybern’s soldiers had their backs to us. They were walking leisurely through the woods on patrol. N’simura had been a truly effective decoy if the first patrol we came across was so unconcerned, they felt confident enough to continue with a light-hearted conversation. Tamlin didn’t wait for Tarquin or I to respond. He darted out, faster than we could follow. Tamlin kept low and crouched. His footsteps were impossibly light. The forest was his territory and this was just another hunt to the High Lord of Spring. Only when he was right on top of them did he rise to his full height and swipe at the soldier with his hand. The blood spattered across the forest floor. I watched the head fall from it’s shoulder’s to tumble on the ground and missed Tamlin’s next swipe, decapitating the second guard just as quickly. 

Tarquin rushed after him in a much noisier manner. His sword was drawn, ready to take on the next. Tamlin whipped around. His eyes wide with shock, mouth open like he’d shout. Neither of them saw the third. Hanging back, I saw the third soldier. Dark Bringer patrols often did this. Two soldiers paired while a third followed at a distance. One acted as the decoy so the third could signal if trouble arrived. I was acting before I knew what I was doing myself. The soldier was wide eyed and trembling, eyes stuck on Tarquin and Tamlin. He didn’t see me approach. Not until I was already swinging my sword in an arc Cassian would have instantly parried. But not this soldier. He didn’t even reach for his until mine was sliding through the soft tissue of his stomach, no resistance felt. 

Recognition fell over his face when he saw me. His eyes searched me like I could have been anyone else by chance. He didn’t say anything, just garbled up blood until a few droplets flecked my cheeks. I listened to his heartbeat as it fell from the racing pace to a few thuds and then nothing. 

I unsheathed my sword from his body and he dropped. Tarquin was peering around for more surprises, only the sea blue of his eyes visible in the darkness. He’d covered his white hair with a black cloth. Tamlin’s eyes were accusing, flicking between the soldier and me. His shock annoyed me. I glared back. He quickly diverted all his aggravation into insulting Tarquin. “Next time you want to appear helpful, don’t fucking give our position away,” he hissed. 

“Then don’t rush off like a hero,” Tarquin retorted. 

“The third soldier had already seen us. We were lucky,” I dipped my head. I didn’t glance at the soldier’s face. This one appeared so young to me. All the others I killed had been faceless, nameless. I already was envisioning the body next to me besides his family, maybe coming from a long line of carpenters or bakers. Drafted into a war he had no intention of fighting in. Of course that was unlikely if he came from Hybern, the island known for its harshness, but the guilt increased with every picture I drew up in my head. _He probably had a mother_. 

A wave of nausea shook me. “Just drag the two to me,” I shook off whatever argument would have come next from the two. We needed to get moving. The bodies would stay with me, where I could hide them. If anyone was close enough to smell the blood then they would be led directly to my awaiting sword. Tamlin would shapeshift to continue the patrol and I’d provide two more illusion soldiers for the three-manned patrol. At least if anyone spoke to the illusion, Tamlin could keep up the guise. 

Tarquin and Tamlin each took one and brought them over to the one I felled. One last glance at the young male before the two other corpses fell on top with an awful, heavy _thud._ Tamlin selected the largest one as his choice of _skin_ to wear. Tarquin and I kept guard while Tamlin studied the soldier. He undressed the male without flinching, eyes distant from the task at hand. He collected the soldier’s head to study it’s features. Even worse, his thumbs pressed into the cheeks to force the jaw open. He checked the health of the teeth. He flicked a K9. 

“We need to move,” Tarquin interrupted, anxiously glancing around. 

“If you want to be discovered, be my guest,” Tamlin said tonelessly. He wouldn’t be rushed through this abhorrent process. The corpse was prey and Tamlin was appraising the value of his kill. His eyes shone predatorily, his fangs now poked beyond his lips. The smell of coagulating blood was churning my stomach already. Two clawed fingertips peeled back the eyelid. I shivered. Tamlin’s ward should have prevented me from scenting the burst of rose when he shifted but it’s phantom presence from my memories filled in the gaps anyway. 

Picking the largest guard had proved the wrong choice. His leather breastplate snapped at the connections and his tunic ripped in several places. His face lost all it’s charm and became all angles and sharp bends. A large scar extended from brow to the opposite jaw like someone had slashed a kitchen knife diagonally there. His eyes remained verdant green. 

He watched me as he spoke. “Tarquin, when you’re ready to get the Book. I assume you’re ready too,” he said. He didn’t give me time to respond. He walked out of the forest with the confidence of a soldier who belonged, who was bored with their patrol and was looking forward to sleeping. In an instant, I conjured the two other soldiers. All who looked would see a three-maned patrol continuing their rounds on the beaches of Adriata. 

“Reckless idiot,” Tarquin hissed, glaring at Tamlin’s disappearing figure. 

I could hardly agree more. He had never seen me use my magic. He had no idea what the measure of my skill was. He risked it all with blind faith in my ability; I wanted to strangle him anyway. “You better get started before he gets any other dumb ideas,” I gritted out, pouring more magic into the illusion so it would be convincing. 

**Cassian:**

I fought next to Rhysand like a male possessed. We hit the battlements of N’simura so hard that stone crumbled underfoot. The soldiers poured from their posts, ready for the attack. It was a welcome if I had ever seen one. I barely considered them a moment before my swords were running them through. I kept my wings tucked in tight. The walls were narrow on either side. Not ideal for Illyrians. Rhysand fought with his wings revealed as well. Our backs were to each other. 

Every chance I got, I threw out my magic. 

N’simura was a tall city built on thick walls of tan stone. We were on the very outer most battlements, so high above the city below that a fall would have killed a lesser fae. When my magic hit the walls, the stone shattered and sent large blocks tumbling down to the ground below. I hoped they hit the soldiers Hybern hid here. 

Magic was flaring to life all around us. Any Illyirian with a siphon was ordered to destroy the city brick by brick if necessary. We needed to keep them back but not too far back. Just enough that Hybern wouldn’t question why we didn’t pour into the city. But Rhysand knew Hybern was somewhere inside the city. If we did this his way, we’d scour the entire city for Hybern and the Cauldron but we didn’t have the _time._

When Azriel winnowed to us, we would have less than twenty minutes to vacate the city before Lucien and Eris set the city ablaze. 

So we dropped bodies in the meantime. I wanted to ensure all of them stayed inside the city. It would be my dream if Kallias and Beron didn’t see a lick of the fighting. They lied in wait outside the city to catch any escaped soldiers. 

Rhysand barely used his sword. While fighting on the catwalks, he had a conveniently narrowed field that meant he could use his magic without fear of hurting any of our soldiers. He was misting them in hoards. Blood already coated my skin in a fine spray from the wind blowing it at me. That was fine. That was _good_. 

Hate existed inside me like no other. They were all responsible for Nesta and Elain. They were all going to answer for whipping Lucien. I hardly cared if the soldiers had even laid eyes on them. As far as I was concerned, they were all guilty the moment they joined Hybern’s ranks and wore the blue and gold. 

I paid no mind to the cuts and scrapes I received in turn. All my actions had a mind of their own. Instinct couldn’t even claim responsibility for my attacks. I was beyond all logic or reasoning and that only fed my confidence. We were going to take the city. Even jam packing the city as Hybern had with soldiers, they couldn’t come fast enough to take on Rhysand and I both. Not to mention the several Illyrian legions that plagued their walls.

**Lucien:**

Eris had cut his hair. Jules kept to the tradition but Eris, heir to the Autumn Court, had given up his braid and long hair. That was the only change I saw as I had no intention of speaking to them to discern anything more. Both of my brothers ignored my presence entirely. That was for the best but I kept my hand resting on the pommel of my sword. I thought I wasn’t capable of hating someone so much but it took one glance at my brothers to bring back vivid memories. 

Azriel didn’t let any of us debate how we’d enter the city. Flipping truthteller in the air, he said in a voice that allowed no arguments, “I will take us into the city and out of it. If you argue, I’ll leave you in the city.” 

Eris crossed his arms over his chest. He wore brown leather armor, oiled to make it fire resistant. Only a solitary slash of red and gold across the chest signified his status. Without his braid, he looked like a foot soldier. “We can winnow out,” he narrowed his eyes. He looked thinner, more angular. The shadows casted under his eyes and cheek bones made him look like a skeleton. 

Azriel raised a brow, lips curling. “Not after I’m done you won’t,” he threatened openly. Those were dangerous in a time like this but Azriel was beyond my advice. He had descended into a darker place outside of my reach. Hate burned in him like fire did in me when he took in Eris. I had many reasons to hate Eris but Azriel only needed one. It pushed him to do reckless things like threaten an heir. In the Autumn Court, he could have his tongue removed for that if not his head. 

“You should keep your mouth shut,” Jules warned, eyes narrowing on Azriel. At least Eris had been smart enough to do just that. 

“Shut it, Jules,” Eris snapped, eyes never leaving the Shadowsinger. He hadn’t once glanced at me, on Azriel’s right. “Let’s get this over with.” They brought the oil. The Autumn Court had everything needed to contain or feed flames. Fire, unlike all the other magic, needed constant control or it would take a life of its own. They oiled their armor with tree sap to make it resistant from but used animal tallow and oil to create the very flammable substance they carried in clay pots. Jules was holding several bricks of explosive powder, bound in animal hide. Behind them were several more stacks. They weren’t taking any more chances than we were and I took that as a good sign. They wanted to end this war just as much as we did.

“If you’re done looking like fools, we have a task,” Cresseida was content to let us kill each other with her arms crossed over her chest. She turned to Azriel and lifted her chin. “When you’re ready, Spymaster.” 

Jules glared at Cresseida, lips curling. “Bold words, girl.” 

Cresseida snorted, paying Jules no mind. Her gaze was still on Azriel. We all took hold and let him bring us into the city walls. With Cresseida as our guide, the trip was shortened considerably. She moved us with practiced ease through the towering hallways that comprised the city. Everywhere I looked was a stairwell, catwalk or hallway. The city was built as a port but could easily be a maze. I looked around quickly, extending my senses as far as they went but nothing valuable was obtained. The clashing on the battlements was enough to deafen me though I was at a loss for how we could hear the fight at all. We’d been in tunnels since we winnowed. 

Rushing water startled me from my thoughts. We’d turned a corner and all of a sudden, I could hear it perfectly clear. Everyone besides Cresseida was surprised at how sudden we arrived at the channels. Azriel was the first to shake it off. He looked at Eris and Jules and pointed to the channels. “Begin pouring.”


	131. Signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple POVs!
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Lucien:**

Once we dropped the explosive blocks in, we would wait a few minutes and then set fire to the oiled water. Azriel had winnowed away to warn Rhysand that they had the half hour to vacate the city. 

Before the explosives went off, it would get extremely hot in the closed quarters inside N’simura. They hadn’t wasted any space. On all sides we were covered by tan stone that barely gave me enough room to stand in. Azriel’s wings scraped against the stone regularly. With Eris, Jules and I all prepared to set fire to the channels, all this stone would act like a steam room. The water would instantaneously evaporate and some tighter channels would likely rupture before exploding.

Any normal fae would die somewhere between time of ignition and explosion. Eris, Jules and I were immune to the effects of heat. We could withstand the heat until Azriel returned for us. He’d winnow us all out. I had to be prepared to protect Cresseida and Azriel from the heat as Eris and Jules hadn’t likely considered their vulnerability. 

In the meantime, we stood in the dark for longer than I cared to. It gave me too much time to note how different I was from them. Both were tall and angular. I was tall but certainly not as sharp as they looked with pointed chins, impeccably straight noses and slitted eyes. I didn’t know what Elain had meant when she said I looked soft to her but I was beginning to take her meaning with each passing moment. More notably was that Eris could have been a sheet of paper for how pale he was. Even with the limited sunlight in the winter, I was still darker. I wondered if Beron had taken one look at me as a babe and knew of my mother’s infidelity even then. 

I needed to speak to her. I hadn’t since Jesminda died. Even when we were Under the Mountain, my father had kept her in the family’s quarters or by his side. That translated to  _ out of my reach _ . When I was just a disgraced male, banished from his Court, I wanted to fade into the background quickly. Tamlin’s right hand had been as close to the spotlight as I dared come. Everything was different now. 

Somehow, not being Beron’s son caused me to revisit those painful memories from the Autumn Court with a new perspective. Before, I had just been another son that Beron sought fit for punishment. Knowing I was Helion’s son now made it clear that Beron had no intention of ever letting me go unscathed. All his actions were personally directed at Helion through me and that made me all the more furious. 

So I’d seek an audience with my Lady mother and I wasn’t going to abide by Autumn Court rules to do it. 

Eris caught my glare and matched it with his own. Jules, ever brash, decided to speak first. “What is taking that bastard so long?” he asked, directing the question at me. I huffed a laugh. I didn’t trust myself with a true response. If I spoke, I’d breathe fire. 

“If you’re getting scared, winnow away,” Cresseida hissed. “We have no use for cowards in this war.” 

“And we have no use for women in this army,” Jules shot back. Eris breathed out a resigned warning but even I remembered how uncontrollable Jules’s temper was. Eris could have been a torch, or a hearth but Jules burned like a forest fire determined to destroy everything in his path. His eyes flicked back to me. “When I heard you were taken by Hybern, I thought it fitting that you’d die with the other weaklings. At least then you could claim no hero’s death on a killing field,” he spat. 

His chest heaved while he watched me, waiting for my reaction. If there was one thing I had learned from Helion and Rhysand, it was the importance of remaining unknowable. The effect of my non-reaction went unobserved. Jules screamed before then but it came out soundless, his face obscured by a halo of shadow. His hand was splayed out in the air and two fingers were bent back too far, held there by shadows. 

I didn’t need to look for Azriel as he stepped out of the shadow behind Jules immediately after. I bet if I tried, I’d never spot him. His eyes were trained on Jules’s back. Cresseida and Eris stood stock still with matching expressions of horror. All of Jules’s pain had been contained inside a barrier made of shadow of Azriel’s making. The shadows stemmed off of Jules and trailed back to Azriel, falling off him like smoke. Despite Eris, Jules and I channeling our magic, the room had dropped several degrees. 

I thought Azriel would say something to Jules but he passed my half-brother with barely a glance. He left his shadows to see to Jules’s lesson and directed his attention to Cresseida, Eris and I. “I have warned High Lord Rhysand. They are preparing to vacate as we speak. Lucien, I assume you can handle the slack left by him?” he jerked a chin to where Jules was still very visibly undergoing an excruciating amount of pain. Azriel didn’t even glance over.

I nodded and kept my face neutral. This was what Azriel was up to when he disappeared into the shadows. Spymaster required this of him and his shadows were quite able to handle all the work. 

“Good,” he said before finally addressing Jules. He pulled his shadows back. I cringed, anticipating Jules’s screams but they had died off into pants and whimpers. “You’ll stay quiet until we return to the war camp,” Azriel ordered. Eris quietly observed Azriel during this but never made any notion of going to Jules’s aid. I suspected this had a lot to do with keeping as far as possible from Azriel’s shadows that looked menacing even as they floated like smoke around him. “Eris, grab hold of your brother so we don’t leave him behind when I winnow us. Cresseida, hold onto Lucien,” we fell quietly into formation, looking to Azriel for approval. He stepped between Eris and I and laid two scarred hands on either of our shoulders. Eris’s eyes were stuck to the burned skin of Azriel’s hands. My half-brother glanced to me then and for once, I saw something beyond contempt and cold ruthlessness. “On my mark,” Azriel called, returning our attention to burning the city. 

**Feyre:**

When my nerves got to be too much, I’d slip into the mental bond. Rhysand and I kept our respective minds locked up when we fought but I could sense him. Faebane had locked his side away; it mocked me with the knowledge he was somewhere beyond my reach. I didn’t brush against his mental walls as that would panic him. We agreed only to reach out when in trouble and I didn’t want to distract him for my own fears. I simply appreciated his presence next to mine, the thrum of his thoughts and magic like the distant rumble of thunder. 

It was a small form of escapism that I indulged all too often. 

From Rhysand’s last contact, N’simura was going to plan. He’d told me of Nesta’s idea to set the city on fire and of the task force assembled to take care of it. As much as I wanted to thank Nesta for her contribution, I had the feeling she wouldn’t have wanted it. She resented the entire plot that I had a hand in creating. She didn’t want my thanks, she wanted us all home alive. 

I hoped she’d see I wanted the same thing too. 

I worried for Lucien, working with his brothers after so long but Rhysand assured me that the Autumn Court would behave. Azriel was normally kept far away from the Autumn Court for a reason. In the days following Morrigan’s rejection from the Autumn Court, Azriel had taken it upon himself to visit with those who spoke out of turn personally. A few threats and the situation usually righted itself. Those that proved unteachable usually found themselves making a visit to the healer’s quarters to regenerate a fingernail, toe or earlobe. Of course, High Lord Beron was none the wiser or there would have been fights but since then, Rhysand kept Azriel far away from their territory as a precaution. Which was why Azriel never visited my sisters when they were in the refugee camp, centered in the Autumn Court. 

With that encouraging display of force, I found myself able to focus on covering Tarquin’s back. When he left the cover of the woods, I ensured any onlooker would only see the sandy shore. 

To my eye, I watched in shock as Tarquin disappeared into the ocean. Not like when we walked us all into the Andros river and shaped the current around us. He simply walked ahead with every intention of breathing water. Every step I thought he’d summon his powers and push the tides away so he could breathe but that never happened. Only when his head went under did I have to accept that there were some extents of the High Lord’s magic I had never considered myself. Limitless possibilities that I could maybe reach if I tried. Cresseida could stop a fae’s blood in their body and Viviane could freeze them, inside out. Both of those were not as terrifying that some of the minor Lords in Thesan’s Court were rumored to rot a person. There was no guarantee I could perform any of these tasks; they were specialized magics that took centuries to perfect but I had to try. I had immortality to look forward to after all. 

One thought remained crystal clear: I needed to train in the other Courts. If not by the other High Lords then with some of the higher fae inside.

Steps roused me from my thoughts. It was Tamlin again. I kept hidden anyway. I’d already dispatched one patrol and I wanted to avoid growing my pile of bodies anymore. The smell of cooling blood and stale breath was pungent by me. It would become more noticeable as the night went on and the only luck I had was the wind blew south, away from Adriata. I had no desire to test the sensory limits of the guards. Anyone of them smelling fresh blood on top of the old rot inside the city would spell disaster for us all. 

Shrouded in darkness, I kept myself hidden from his view as well. He was peering directly at me and despite the blanket of night I painted, I felt he could see me anyway. I think it was Alis who had told me once that the Spring Court was home of the hunter just like the Autumn Court was the home of the harvest. All these arbitrary roles applied to each court in some vague way yet Tamlin fit his like a glove. “It’s difficult to maintain the illusion if you insist on interrupting me,” I said.

It wasn’t. I had long ago figured out exactly how much magic I needed to maintain the illusions all night. I had two illusions raised. One that covered the ocean, disguising any possible disruption Tarquin might cause. The second was of the patrols I killed that Tamlin fit neatly into to ensure no other of Hybern’s guards got suspicious. The issue was that his patrols took him by the forest which he took the liberty to visit with me during. He hadn’t passed me once without ensuring I was not taxing myself. 

Somehow, when Tamlin looked at me he missed my armor, shortsword and slowly growing pile of bodies; he still saw me in the lady’s dresses of the Spring Court. I could have told myself it was a good thing that he only saw the positive but the female he found didn’t exist anymore. He’d crafted his own illusion of me. His insistence that I needed protection was aggravating. In all my time with Rhysand, I had only received minor injuries either from training or in a fight. All of those injuries combined and I still felt powerful. Capable. My own two hands could wreak havoc even without my magic. When Tamlin had hurt me, I had been defenseless. It was the female he remembered now. The one who had magic but no training and a host of trauma to keep me weighed down. I had hated myself then. I was ineffectual. I could do nothing but exist and when Tamlin hurt me, I only proved his point: I needed to be locked away for my own safe keeping. 

His lingering need to protect me was unwelcome. It wasn’t like Rhysand’s concern. He readily expressed his fears with me but when I stated I’d follow him onto the battlefield, he nodded and gritted his teeth. It would hurt him to see me injured but I could have said the same for him. We were equals and that meant shouldering the same risks. Even when Cassian or Lucien or Azriel stuck close to me, I could accept their desire or responsibility to see me safe. They wouldn’t stop me just to ease their worries. 

Even when faced with the real proof of my training, Tamlin did not see it as such. “Now go away,” I added after a breath. 

“I wanted to see that you were safe.” 

_ Of course. As you have been doing for the past thirty minutes.  _

“Well I am, now leave before you raise any more suspicion.” He was ensuring my safety in a reckless way. I couldn’t fault him for not being daemati or sharing a mental link but that didn’t excuse stupidity. 

“I have plenty of reason to enter the woods, namely drinking too much ale,” my furrowed brows lit with shock.  _ Was he making a joke?  _ I wanted to throttle him. These past few days had nearly killed me to get through and Tamlin couldn’t have been more comfortable if he tried. I decided I would slap him when presented with the opportunity next. I’d make sure I threw all my weight into it. 

The idea could only be a dream. I was sure if I slapped Tamlin, Rhysand would take Tamlin apart limb from limb. He wouldn’t need a reason. The Codes of Fae gave detailed rules on the treatment and care of mates. They were supposed to be rare enough to earn them a special set of laws. Apparently, the fae who wrote the Codes hadn’t wanted to tempt fate by finding out what happens when you antagonize the mating bond. Of course, wars brought out the ugliest side and mates were bound to be captured: instincts became uncontrollable and a host of terrible deaths resulted. 

When I didn’t reply, Tamlin sighed. “Just stay safe...none of the other patrols come here but we can’t afford to lose tonight.” His shoulders slumped but I couldn’t find it in me to feel anything towards him, even pity. 

“I know what my task is. You’re abandoning yours right now. Go make yourself seen so none of them come looking. Tarquin will be out with the Book in a bit but you need to leave now,” I hissed. 

He straightened, eyes somehow finding me despite my magic. They searched the darkness like he could make out my silhouette if he tried longer. When that didn’t work, he shook his head and continued down the beach. 

I breathed deeply to center my mind. My illusion hadn’t wavered but my control on it almost had. He still got under my skin. Cassian had been right. It was painfully obvious. I would never control my reaction until I had better license over my own heart. My mask wasn’t impenetrable for the same reason. I let my emotions go too often. 

**Rhysand:**

For all the worry over N’simura, the battle had been relatively painless. Neither Cassian nor I boasted a single cut. We’d only fought for a small portion of the night. Azriel had appeared on time to warn us away from the city and now we stood across the river, waiting for N’simura to turn into a bonfire. When the fire was containable, we’d scavenge the city and hopefully find one dead King inside. 

I was relatively pleased. We’d left some of the soldiers in a confusion over our hasty retreat but it would only be for a few minutes. Cassian leaned on a tree, exhausted from using his magic to take a chunk out of the city himself. “If I never saw the Summer Court again, it would be too soon,” he breathed. 

“I think Tarquin would agree,” I replied wryly.

“He’s taking it too personally,” Cassian grumbled. “And besides, it was Nesta who came up with the idea to torch N’simura.” 

“Yes but you wouldn’t tell Tarquin that so it’ll be  _ you  _ he blames for it. Or me,” I shrugged. After the war, I wouldn’t mind never seeing a single one of the other High Lords. I wouldn’t go further south than the Day Court and even that was pushing it. Of course I wanted to travel with Feyre but right now, all I wanted to  _ travel  _ to was our bed in Velaris. 

Cassian shrugged. “Can’t banish me twice.” 

“He can ask that I punish you for excessive force,” I challenged. Not that I would comply but it was one of the limited actions Courts could take to hold each other accountable. 

“Can’t punish me if you can’t catch me,” he grinned. “We both know I’m the faster-”

My ears were gone. White noise entered and didn’t fade. Blinding light forced me to step away but not before I flung out a shield in front of Cassian and I. That didn’t stop us from being thrown back several paces. My wings flared out to balance me. Where they reached out beyond the shield, they singed. I pulled them back instantly, hissing in pain. The heat was unbearable. My skin was raw and burned even with my magic protecting me. My eyes were just readjusting to the sea of white I saw. At first, only specks and then shadows. Someone was screaming. I thought it was Cassian. 

I glared up at the light, determined to make sense of what I saw but all the white light didn’t fade. N’simura was engulfed and burned brighter than a normal fire. The Autumn Court explosives had done their jobs. Half of the city was rubble and the other half was on fire. Cassian and I stared in awe. Azriel had winnowed in moments earlier with Lucien and the rest; his screams at us to get back had gone unheard by both of us. I still couldn’t hear. 

In one moment, Hybern’s forces had been standing and now they were eradicated. Moments later. Nothing but dust, ash and smoke that rose into the night to be carried away on the wind. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry more. This war was ending. We were close. 

I looked to Cassian and Azriel, determined to talk to them even if I had to shout and read their lips, when we sensed it. All our spines straightened. Our faces matched each other with blank looks of dread. I slowly pivoted back to the burning city before another pulse confirmed what we had just sensed. Hybern’s magic coated the air from inside the city. 

Hybern was alive and inside the city. 


	132. Snare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 POVs. 4k words. lets do this. 
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

I felt a clenching in my gut. A weight had been tied to my organs. It began as a pinching and then steadily rose until I was sure my innards were being squeezed. It wasn’t necessarily painful as horribly uncomfortable. My magic wavered in an attempt to accommodate for the new distraction but I clung tightly to the thin control I had. My ribs felt like they were being pushed outwards, something trying to escape from inside me. I didn’t know what it came from but I had the growing sensation that if I didn’t keep focused on my magic, the illusion would drop entirely. 

It wasn’t beyond managing but a thin layer of sweat dotted my forehead. My throat was tightening from the effort. The illusion wavered but to the undiscerning eye, nothing had changed. Normally, controlling my magic felt the same as using my arms or legs. When I was first learning it was difficult and I was shaky but as time went on, it became reflexive and natural. Now, I was consciously directing effort into something that had once felt so simple. My eyes traced the illusion I painted to keep it from fading away. I even reached out my hands as if they could convince the magic to stay. Imagined whispers that might have been the wind played with my ears. When I listened for them, I heard the crash of the ocean waves on the shore and the whispering of leaves in the wind. Once I drew away my focus, a stream of unintelligible voices surrounded me, too numerous to discern. 

The ultimate test was when Tarquin finally emerged from the ocean. I could see the male beyond the murky colors of my magic but if my illusion failed, I wouldn’t be the only one. If Tarquin felt my magic straining he didn’t show any signs. He clutched something close to his chest and darted to the forest. He’d abandoned all signs of calm control he showed when he first entered the ocean. Though his eyes were trained on his footsteps, I could see how wide and strained they looked. 

He found me by the smell of blood from the bodies but continued to search, I’d hidden myself beyond a shroud of darkness. Dropping that illusion tested the limits of my control to drop one part of my illusion without letting the others fall away as well. All my magic wanted to slip free like it had a mind of its own. It was a foreign body inside of me. I forced myself to focus. I was reminded of training with Cassian; I needed to push myself to keep standing up even after my body ached for rest. We weren’t done with Adriata yet. I still had to maintain the illusion of the guards until Tamlin came around again. 

“Feyre,” Tarquin breathed. His voice rasped at the end like he’d just risen from a desert instead of the ocean. 

He stumbled forward. I steadied him and his full weight leaned on me. “Do you have the Book?” I asked, feeling something poking hard against my plate. He angled away to show me what he clutched with both hands. It was leather bound and thicker than the width of my hand. The corners had been reinforced with a black reflective metal. There were no embellishments to speak of. It looked like someone had cleaved a book in two with an axe; half of the Book was missing, with an ugly tear at the bindings to prove it. The Human Queens would have the other part then. 

The Book was disgustingly simple for how important it was. 

And like it was sending a signal, my magic lurched at the sight of it. The whispers came back and they didn’t shy away from me when I listened for them. Whatever was happening inside of me was connected to this Book. And from one glance at Tarquin, he felt the same sensation. “It...should obey my magic but it’s resisting. It keeps...insisting I do not own it,” he grunted, doubling over. I almost fell too, between his weight on top of mine and the same pain in my own body. 

I felt like I knew why. 

“Get it to Helion then,” I stated, helping Tarquin to rise straight. My eyes kept flicking to the Book. I couldn’t look away. The whispers were demanding even though I had no idea what they were saying, they spoke too quickly. I felt like it was a dreamworld. In less than a night, we had finally achieved the one task that had vexed us since the war began. The night wasn’t over yet. We had to get back to the war camp and then I’d believe we succeeded. I wouldn’t believe it until we were back. Right now, this victory was as steady as sand falling through my fingers. 

“Tamlin-” 

“I will wait for him as planned.” 

“Are you-” 

“I was supposed to bring up the rear anyway. Just be careful and move slowly,” I insisted. We wanted to all move together but now that we had the Book in our grasp, I was impatient. The Book needed to get back to the war camp above all else. 

Tarquin stared hard at me. “You have less than an hour to get back before I return,” he told me. 

“It won’t take an hour,” I smiled back. He clutched the Book back against his chest, wrapping arms protectively around it and darted towards the wards. I wished I could have said the unease building inside of me was solely due to the Book. 

**Rhysand:**

“It’s a trap,” Azriel breathed. His voice was nothing more than a rasp, throat dry from the smoke that coated the air. Hybern’s magic pulsed once more as if in answer,  _ yes.  _ Magic didn’t have to be so detectable, so obvious. Concealment was a basic lesson. Those skilled with wards usually could see around the concealment but in general, magic could be hidden. Hybern’s magic was a signal. A fucking flare to all of us and the Mother above and I did not like what message he was sending. 

Dread pooled low in my gut.

“Of course it is,” Cassian laid a heavy hand on my armor. Azriel took to my other side. They knew me too well. “You’re not going in there.” 

“You suggest I ignore it?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral. Of course that gave me away immediately. I wanted to go even if it was a trap. Call it curiosity, insane stupidity or a death wish, I wanted to go face Hybern. I was mentally convincing myself of ending the war in one night while Cassian and Azriel were preparing themselves to stop me by any means necessary. 

“No. I’ll go-” 

“Shut up, no one should go,” Lucien came up besides us, cutting off Cassian before he could serve himself on a platter for slaughter. “Hybern is toying with us; if we listen, we become pawns. We should ignore it even if it kills us to do so,” Lucien nodded curtly like there would be no more arguing after. I could respect his sense of authority but I was going into that city regardless of his logic. For a moment though, we all pretended like we'd listen to reason.

That moment passed. 

“How the fuck did he survive it?” Cassian stared Lucien down. “You set the fires. The city is either rubble or ash. What the fuck is Hybern doing, waving a damn flag like he wants to be found?” he asked, raising a challenging brow at Lucien. Lucien furrowed his brows as he thought, working through the problem we were all just beginning to comprehend. 

“He thinks he has won something,” Azriel replied. He stared at N’simura. The city was a raging inferno. It was hard to identify anything worth winning when the stone itself was a degree away from burning too. 

“What could he have fucking won?” Cassian’s voice grew into a shout. He waved his arm to the city. “We destroyed his city for fuck’s sake and all his army in it,” Cassian’s chest heaved, eyes furious while he waited on our response. I looked back to N’simura and wished we hadn’t destroyed it so completely. We needed answers from it now. 

I swallowed, wetting my throat in preparation of speaking. My eyes were stinging. Tears would not help me now. “I am going back into that city. Cassian and Azriel. You both are coming. Lucien, you’re going to make sure we don’t get burned,” I turned around to where I knew she would be waiting. She was dutiful like that, never leaving until dismissed. Cresseida had listened to our conversation with rapt attention. “Will you come and guide us through the city?” I asked her. We had no other choice. N’simura was a maze without someone to guide us. 

Whatever suspicions she had of the Night Court came to a front on her face. She glanced between us four like she could see our loyalties and motivations displayed on our chests. For all the times I regretted Morrigan and Feyre’s insistence we make allies of the Summer Court, this moment I was proven wrong. We needed Cresseida. “And if Hybern is inside the city?” she asked. 

I sighed out. Even with the fire burning my skin from across the river, my skin broke out in cold sweats. “Then you can help kill him or you can leave us in the city to kill him,” I offered. Though if she did stop a fae’s blood in their bodies, I’d appreciate her being on our side immensely. 

She nodded stiffly, hand going to the pommel of her intricate sword. “I’ll come.” 

“This is a shit idea,” Lucien hissed. 

“And what are our choices?” Cassian glared. “Are you coming or not?” 

“I said it’s a shit idea, not that I’d let you guys cook yourselves like meat over a fire,” he shot back. 

**Feyre:**

Distance didn’t stop the twisting in my gut but Helion’s magic did something as it relieved the feeling a little. I could breathe easier knowing Tarquin had made it through. All that was left was to wait for Tamlin to reappear again. Of all the times for him to disappear, he picked the time that I distinctly needed him to make his presence known. I kept my eyes trained on the beach and continued to paint the illusion until I felt numb to all other sensation.

I had a dreadful feeling the Book wouldn’t behave under Tarquin’s magic because it no longer answered to the Summer Court. The Book was supposed to nullify the Cauldron. Nesta controlled the Cauldron now. I believed the Book would now only obey Nesta though I had no basis for my beliefs. 

I wanted to keep her far from the war. Nesta didn’t show any interest in the war besides its ending. And her new proclivity for killing Hybern’s soldiers. Now, it seemed that she’d be dragged in all because I had let her get captured. I knew it wasn’t my fault but I felt responsible anyway. There would never be a day when the pain my family felt I didn’t also feel in triplicate. Love was so terrible like that. 

I didn’t know what I could do for her. It was a problem with no solution. She was the Cauldron’s chosen bearer. Unless we found differently, there was nothing that could separate the two. Did that make her liable now? For something she never wanted? Never asked for? Was forced into accepting? 

Was it fair of me to make her dedicate her life to something so awful?

What other choice did I have?

I was about to slip into the mental bond when shifting sand drew my eyes. Tamlin had finally reappeared and the weight on my chest eased a little. At least one thing had gone right. Like clockwork, he came to pause by the woods to ask if I was alright and for once, I wasn’t irritated by the inane habit he formed. “Get in here,” I hissed, stepping beyond the shadow veiling me to drag him into the cover of woods. His tunic felt odd between my fingers, the magic making his disguise tingled. I snapped my hand away like I’d been burned. “Tarquin got the Book. We need to-” 

“Where is he?” Tamlin stopped walking with me, forcing me to turn and face him. 

I huffed. “He went ahead. The Book isn’t obeying him. Helion will have warded it to keep it contained. We’ll explain later, we need to get back to-” 

“And he left us?” Tamlin recoiled, disgust curling his lips. “He might have just shouted our location.”

I was close to reaching out and dragging him away again. I had his strength in my veins. I bet I could have picked him up without issue. “No. He got back safe. Let’s go-”

“Wait, Feyre,” the use of my name gave me pause. It called back memories that were still sweet and not ruined by our sordid history. Those days when Tamlin had been someone else and we might have been something better. Yet I was glad I hadn’t stayed to find out. Even if he hadn’t changed after Amarantha had thoroughly wrecked us, we never would have worked. Maybe we would have been happy but in a tame, content way; nothing we would’ve become would have compared to the unbridled joy I had with Rhysand and my family. He licked his lips, eyes fixing on my face in a searching and insecure way. “I need to know. I need to know are you...are you happy?” he asked.

The words didn’t match the scene. We were in Hybern’s territory, sneaking around as bandits. My heart was close to jumping out of my chest from successfully capturing the Book while my stomach was ready to tear itself in half from the Book’s unwillingness. His words were too soft, too sincere. “Now? You ask me now? Ask me later-” 

“No. You’re alone now. When we go back, you’re not you and you know it.” 

I wanted to groan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is me. You just haven’t accepted that yet,” I hissed. 

“No. I know you...wanted to be something more. Wanted to fight,” he shook his head. I should have just turned and left him but we couldn’t leave a High Lord to fend for himself. Even if that High Lord was actively trying to get us both discovered and killed. Hybern couldn’t win even one of them. Besides, Helion and Tarquin wouldn’t stand for it. “But you aren’t the same person anymore. I want to know if this is you...or if it’s him.” 

I was floored. All my focus was taken from my magic and the illusion faded, which was well enough as Tamlin and I would be leaving. “If it’s him?” I echoed. “You mean Rhysand?” I could have been hissing, growling or any combination thereof but I forced my voice into a low, quiet whisper. He stared at me, observing my reaction. I knew we wouldn’t get back if I stalled. I had a few moments to convince him. He was listening here when he hadn’t been all those times before. Maybe because I’d always been with Rhysand before or surrounded by my Court or because I simply was so far from Rhysand I couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be under his influence. I didn’t care what delusion Tamlin believed. He was listening now. 

I willed calm into my voice when I felt none. “Do you think I am so weak as to abandon all my principles for another?” I asked. “Do you think I have now become cruel like Amarantha? That I seek all happiness through pain now? Is that what you have observed of me these past few months?” his face kept still, somehow wrought with all emotions but none so prevalent as concern. He winced at the mention of her name. Saying it still felt like a curse. “I am not the same as I was before, I will grant you that. I am stronger now and I am not so innocent. I have blood on my hands but all that has been to keep myself and my loved ones safe. I’ll not try to explain my mate’s actions to you, I have no right to, but I will not be told I have been tainted by him. Everything you see now is me,” I stepped away, intent on meeting Tarquin and Helion by the Andros even if Tamlin wanted to stay. I wanted to get back to the camp now more so than ever. 

Tamlin followed after me. “You’re really his mate?” he asked quietly. I hated the way he said it like I was a plaything, a toy passed from owner to owner. 

“No, Tamlin,” I sighed, slipping through the forest quickly and quietly like I could escape him. I was tired of this judgement. I could go days without feeling it and then someone would speak and the weight would come down twice as heavy. Rhysand shouldered it better than I did or ever could. It was easier to handle when I could turn to him for understanding, for love. I wouldn’t let Tamlin insult him now; it was my turn to be stronger. “I am his partner, his friend, his lover, his Lady and  _ then  _ his mate.” 

“That’s touching,” a feminine voice called out. I spun, drawing my sword too. Tamlin also turned, wide-eyed at the approaching figure. Blonde hair caught the moonlight before twinkling silver did as well. I squinted until recognition hit me. 

“Ianthe?” I breathed.

She barely gave me a second glance, looking to Tamlin pointedly. “You’re a little late to begin doubting the plan now. And you’re a little late to begin with. You were supposed to meet me an hour ago,” she stated, hands going inside her cloak. “Now if you’re both ready, Hybern does not like to be kept waiting,” she looked up at us expectantly. Her eyes were bright blue orbs without a sliver of warmth inside.

I choked. “What?” 

“No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” Tamlin shook his head, stepping past me to stand between Ianthe and I. “I was wrong. We need to move-”

“You let that pathetic speech convince you? Please. I could have heard the High Lord’s influence even if I was standing at your mother’s grave,” she sighed back. “Come along. We don’t have all night.” 

The connections came slowly, unwillingly to me. In part, because I resisted drawing them with every fiber of my being. Tamlin was a bastard but a  _ traitor? _ I thought I knew him but as Cassian said, I let my heart get in the way. 

“You were the spy,” I breathed out, freezing both Ianthe and Tamlin in their tracks. I wanted to cry like a child. Somehow, that had been worse like a final breaking point of Tamlin’s character. He had given Hybern Nesta. Elain. Lucien. He’d betrayed us all. His heart lurched at my words but he didn’t straighten, raising no defense. All hope that I was wrong vanished.  _ Tamlin betrayed us all.  _

He shook his head, rapidly denying the accusation even as he accepted the blame, “Only because I thought the Cauldron could help-” 

“Help what?” I hissed. 

“Break you from whatever Rhysand had done but I see that it was wrong...I was wrong-” 

“You worked with Hybern,” I groaned, feeling tears enter my eyes. 

He swallowed. He tensed, only raising his head to watch me. Moonlight poured on him and left him looking alone, weak in the dark forest. “For you.” 

“You accuse me of losing my principles?” I huffed a laugh. I bit my cheek to keep from laughing any louder, bitterness coated my tongue. There had to be something to laugh about in this fucked up world because if I stopped laughing, I’d start sobbing. Tamlin’s eyes widened, red and watery. His own shame only furthered my resolve. I pushed down all my emotions in exchange for my sense of duty. My heart had no place here. I straightened and lifted my chin. I pointed my sword at him, studying his once-impressive stature for all it was worth. “You are  _ nothing.  _ You are a  _ traitor _ .” 

“Feyre-” 

“Enough,” I cut him off, viciously swinging my sword through the air like it could snap the final ties between us. “You can stay here and die or return to the war camps with me. I cannot vouch that would be any better,” I spat. I didn’t have words for Ianthe. I’d kill her if I looked at her too long. 

We needed to get back. 

“You’re coming with us, Feyre,” she stated. I gripped my sword tighter. She stepped closer to me, readying for the fight but holding all the cards. Her hands fell from her cloak and she opened them to the air, revealing a fine powder. One glance was all I got before she blew it into the air. The southern wind guided it directly at Tamlin and I. In one instant, my lungs had closed as the faebane poisoned me and shut away all my magic. 

**Cassian:**

Cresseida didn’t waste time in getting us to where Hybern’s magic had originated from. Unfortunately, any time spent inside the burning city already felt like a century had passed by. Lucien’s shield helped us from being burned but he couldn’t fix the air or heat. We were breathing in dry smoke and ashes, dust and rubble from all the fallen walls. I’d long since finished my water so my voice was hopelessly hoarse. The others were in the same condition, Cresseida less so since she could rely on her Summer Court heritage to keep herself protected from the dry heat.

The city was an unrecognizable wasteland. I thanked the Cauldron that Cresseida came along. We never would have picked through the rubble in time. We kept her at the center of the group. If we lost her, we were as good as dead. Rhysand took the lead but only just barely. Azriel and I were so close to him we almost squeezed Cresseida between us. Lucien led the rear, managing to shield us as we walked. Thankfully, Cresseida hadn’t mentioned his wards yet and I hoped her smoke-clouded mind would confuse it with the Autumn Court’s inability to burn. 

But we had no choices but shitty ones so we moved forward. 

As we moved, all I noticed was a whole lot of nothing. Our walk was clear with only rubble in our path. Wooden doors, already burned away, revealed empty rooms stretching beyond them. The halls we moved through were narrow tunnels, sometimes impeded by the city crumbling. I knew all bodies would have burned up but we should have seen more. The makings of archery towers, shields and swords, or any sign of life. I was stuck deciding if the fire had done its job and burned everyone away or they had never existed to begin with. 

No one mentioned this. 

We entered a courtyard and I was stuck, remembering West Maritch. We’d had four High Lords and myself and Hybern had still almost killed us all with a cleverly set trap. I forced myself to the front besides Rhysand. I’d used a decent portion of my magic already. If faebane hurt me, at least Rhysand could create havoc in my place. 

But the courtyard was empty, like all the other places before it. Except for one glittering white object at its center, completely untouched by the fire and surrounded in a soft, hazy glow of protective magic. A spear protruded from the ground and thrust onto it’s blade was the body of a Winter Court messenger fox. It’s fur was still pristine white, save for where the spear entered and exited. In it’s jaw, was a folded piece of paper stained red. 

Rhysand stepped forward but I pushed him back. “This isn’t West Maritch,” I told him. He barely nodded, eyes frozen on the body of the dead fox. “Lucien, be ready for a trap,” I called back, voice raspy. Before I could regret my decision, I snatched the letter from the fox’s mouth. The magic guarding the body vanished in a flutter of golden sparks, becoming inseparable from the glittering embers around us. I flipped open the letter, squinting at the drawn picture. 

It was a small map of Prythian and Adriata was circled. 


	133. Deprive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter concludes Renew  
> Thank you for following me on this story/ACOMAF rewrite. The third story/ACOWAR rewrite will begin on 01/04 EST; I am sorry that it means a break and I hope I do not lose your trust, nor your faithful attendance. I honestly want to deliver a story just as long and (hopefully) as thoughtful as this one. I will be checking this comment board in the meantime to ensure I haven't completely abandoned you guys. Enjoy the cliffhanger while it lasts because I assure you, I'll be tying all those loose ends in the next installment. :)  
> Best,  
> Lilypad_Padlily
> 
> Note to the FBI: I do not own the characters.
> 
> Note to the readers: I didn't vibe with ACOWAR. It wasn't my favorite and I found that ACOMAF set it up for failure in some ways. In this fiction, I try (key word being try) to write the ACOMAF/ACOWAR novel I wished I had seen. That being said, I was liberal with my tags/relationships included. If there is something disturbing in a chapter, I will post a warning on that chapter. If you have a suggestion/criticism/pun/comment, please feel free to comment. I am not a skillful writer and I love feedback. If you have an insult, please refrain from hurting my feelings and either a.) give me constructive criticism or b.) tell someone else.
> 
> Thank you kindly

**Feyre:**

Tamlin and I stumbled back, choking. Ianthe began to approach slowly, taking us both in as we struggled to breathe. My lungs instantly closed. My skin flamed up like it had been rubbed raw, to the point of bleeding. The moonlight became disorienting to me with flashes of white light dancing in my vision. I wiped harshly away at the tears clouding my eyes. Coughing didn’t help me breathe. I’d never felt faebane before. I knew what it should do but that didn’t stop me from slamming against all my mental walls, reaching for the magic well inside me. 

Just as my magic was shut away, the twisting in my gut stopped too. “Hybern didn’t want to take any chances. He had a feeling you’d go back on your word,” she stated haughtily. “Now, you’ve come all this way. Let’s make it to the ship, yes?” she turned to me. Something rustled in the forest, footsteps maybe. People were coming our way. I couldn’t tell. Was it from behind me or ahead? Was it Tarquin or was it more of Hybern’s soldiers? 

I glared at her, doubled over as I was. I didn’t know if all this meant Helion and Tarquin were discovered as well. I couldn’t even send out my magic to figure it out. I had no idea what had happened and no time to figure it out. All I did know was Tamlin betrayed us and I wasn’t leaving without Ianthe’s head. 

I slipped into my training faster than I believed possible with the faebane still working through me. I didn’t raise my sword until I was already charging. My footsteps were fast and practiced. I was going to kill her. I was going to. Ianthe held out her hands like that could stop me, lips mumbling. 

“Feyre, wait,” Tamlin hoarsely called. He lunged and grabbed my left arm, yanking me from my war path with the strength no poison could pry from him. I brought my elbow down hard, crashing into his nose with the same power he boasted. Blood spurted out. He let go immediately and I fell back, pivoting to Ianthe. I was slashing through the air and sparks flew. Her magic barrier was two small, disk-like shields centered at her hands. They shimmered from my attack. I had nothing to break through it but I didn’t need to. 

She couldn’t defend herself against me. Tamlin wasn’t stopping me anymore. I was through her shields in a second. She smashed one against my left arm and burned through my tunic, my skin. That came last to my mind. My sword plunged through the air. A priestess doesn’t wear armor. In one second my sword was protruding from her back. The force of my swing lifted her feet from the ground and for a moment, she was suspended above me. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving. She choked and gurgled. Blood welled and dripped from her lips, hitting my cheeks. She stopped moving finally. I stepped back, letting her bodyweight pull her corpse from my sword and land in a heap on the ground. 

I turned to Tamlin. He looked caught, shoulder’s back and tense. Not only caught but paralyzed. His eyes flicked up. They looked just as he did Under the Mountain when he was helpless and knew it. He was giving me the same look of desperation right before Amarantha beat me before the entire court. 

“I’m going-” pain shot up my leg. I couldn’t hold my weight. I fell into the ground, clutching my sword awkwardly but I held to it fast anyway. My head spun and vision danced. I landed on my back. I dared a glance down to see a bolt protruding from my thigh. The sight of my blood glistening was just as disorienting as the view of the night sky beyond the canopy. This was all so wrong. The injury was burning.  _ That would be the faebane _ . My heartbeat was slowing in my ears. My breath was wheezy and weak. How much faebane could I take before my body decided it had enough? 

Footsteps were approaching and I wasn’t stupid enough to hope they were Tarquin’s. No one was coming. Tamlin knelt down besides me, his hands trembling. He dared not touch me. His eyes kept ahead to where I couldn’t see. That was fine. If they came closer, I’d lunge but for now I was content resting on the forest floor. I was watching the canopy. The trees were swaying in the wind. I could still smell the salt from the ocean breeze over the scent of my own blood.

“You did well even if you didn’t do much,” a calm voice called out. It was all ice. No emotion besides the satisfaction of a small victory. “But I don’t like males that abandon their duties.” Tamlin’s jaw tightened in my peripheral. “Chain them both.” 

“Wait-”

“Tamlin if you resist, I will pick a limb and leave it as a parting gift.” 

He didn’t resist. A male came to stand over me. His hands on his hips, he had a roguish smile like we’d just had a particularly satisfying spar. His dark brown hair fell haphazardly from his head, messy and unclean. I thought of Cassian. I blinked quickly, swallowing the well of emotion I’d opened. 

I let my emotion fuel me. I tightened my grip on my sword. In a weak swing, I slashed at his knees. I thought I heard someone laugh. It was a pathetic attempt. One that he caught easily with his gauntlet-protected hands. Our eyes met over the blade. He was familiar to me. I spat. He frowned and yanked my sword from my hand. He inspected the blade with a discerning eye, checking how balanced and how sharp the blade was. It was a perfect sword. Not only because I spent time sharpening it myself but because Rhysand had gifted it to me and that was enough for me to know. The male, done with his assessment, tossed it into the woods where I heard it thud. His brown eyes fixed back on mine, watching me from my stubborn glare to the purse of my lips. “It’s been a longtime Cursebreaker,” he nodded, right before he brought his boot crashing down on my skull and my vision went black. 

**Rhysand:**

Cassian unfolded the paper with care. He shielded it’s contents from us as he read. His shoulders straightened and head snapped up. My stomach had sunk so far I didn’t think it could go any further. We hadn’t fooled Hybern with attacking N’simura. He had brought in his troops, making sure we saw, and winnowed them out again. He wasted all our efforts planning for a large attack and laughed at us while we did it. This was another game. He was the master of it too. This was the same male that invaded the Spring Court silently, going unnoticed for days until he was ready to bring down the Wall. He knew a decoy when he saw one. 

“Rhys,” Cassian whispered, glancing back at us. His mouth was parted, lips moving with words unsaid. He couldn’t meet my eyes. The letter was suspended between us. My eyes moved to the paper slowly, not fully understanding. Only after a moment did I take it from him. My hands were not my own. These hands trembled when I needed to be strong. I unfolded the paper and searched for words. There were none. I heard laughing of a joke well-said.

The mental bond. I broke down the barriers, clawing my way to reach Feyre who was not there. Her mind locked away. I was not a stranger to faebane. My mouth fell open. All the air sucked from my lungs. Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, hitting the stone with a sizzle. Like a punch to the gut, realization thrashed me. This had all been a trap and we’d been blind. All of my plots, ploys and distractions had been laughable to Hybern. He knew of them all. 

We had been betrayed. Again. 

“Hybern,” I wetted my lips, preparing to speak though my voice came out hollow. I folded the letter slowly, turning to face them. All of them stood with wide-eyes that beseeched me to speak faster but it didn’t matter. Nothing I did would matter now. “Hybern knew of Adriata.” 

I locked away all thoughts on mates and instincts. I swallowed the emotions inside me. My hands tightened so hard my knuckles cracked. I tried not to imagine my mate. I pushed away all thoughts of her face, her smile. Each memory was threatening to unravel me. If I looked too closely, I’d begin to lose myself. My control was tentative and weak but I had it for now. The longer this continued I would begin to slip but I would hold tight to my sanity for as long as it lasted. 

Lucien’s mouth dropped. Cresseida made a choking noise. Azriel turned away from us. “What about Feyre?” Lucien asked, eyes like orbs. His hair gleamed from the firelight. To his credit, his magic barrier didn’t waiver once though he looked like he would crumble with a strong wind. “Can you reach her?” Cassian looked up at me then. He had bit his lip so hard he drew blood. The question was a knife in my gut, twisting until all I could do was admit I was useless, weak. She was out there, kneeling, crying and calling out and I was  _ here.  _

I didn’t want to admit it but with the walls of adamant, locking her away from me, I had to face the truth. I shook my head slowly. “I can’t reach her. She’s been hit with faebane,” I swallowed. “I am going to Adriata now.” There were other duties I was neglecting but none so important as this one. Everything else was secondary to the thought of my mate. My head kept attached to my shoulders by the sole, centering thought that our mating bond was still present. She wasn’t dead. 

“I’m coming,” Lucien stated. 

“We all are,” Cassian added. 

“It’s likely we are too late,” Cresseida whispered. 

“We don’t  _ know  _ that,” Cassian snapped back, clapping his hand on my shoulder. Cresseida bowed her head. They all followed suit. In silence, we winnowed to Adriata. When we landed I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to see what sights awaited me. I didn’t want to know anymore. Judging from their sick looks, no one else wanted to know just how terribly we had been fooled. 

We couldn’t enter the city directly. A ward surrounded it entirely. I thought that if Helion had been in danger, he would have shattered it first but that was likely wishful thinking. The Summer Court was quiet. Only far off sounds of the ocean and rustling trees met my ears. I could smell nothing but the salty beach and seaweed. I took that as a sign we needed to get beyond the ward to find anything. I tried not to focus too intently on the scent of lilac. 

Standing at the base of the ward, Cassian, Azriel and I looked to Lucien. Hiding his heritage was a problem for another day. Lucien swallowed and raised his hands to the wards. Cresseida’s gaze was far off. She was hardly paying attention. I should have corrected her; we needed to be focused but that would have been hypocritical of me. Lucien’s magic coated the air in a burst of spice and gave me something to focus on other than the nauseating scent of the beach. There were too many memories. The first night of our bargain. The day I claimed her as my mate. The day she felt like she had failed. A million times in between those days where we could escape, just the two of us. 

“Lucien wait,” a voice called out. Cassian drew his swords in a swift movement, stepping in front of me quickly. His wings flaring to protect me. Only when he retracted did I see Helion and Tarquin standing directly behind us. I hadn’t even heard their approach. Or smell them. Or feel their magic. I realized the answer: Helion’s wards hid them away. Hope grew treacherously inside me. Suddenly, the absence of lilac wasn’t so threatening. “What are you all doing here?” he asked, even as Cassian’s swords held his neck pinched between them. It was telling of Cassian’s pain that he didn’t immediately withdraw, that he was debating how guilty Helion was of Feyre’s absence. 

“Where is Feyre?” I asked, side-stepping the question. Helion’s eyes rounded. 

“She and Tamlin were supposed to meet us here,” Tarquin answered, quietly. Only then did I see the object clutched to his chest. I resented it almost immediately. “They haven’t...haven’t come out yet.” 

“And you stood here?” Lucien asked, coming to stand next to me. Him and Helion silently exchanged words. Lucien turned back to me. 

I’d had enough of talk, of waiting. “Get us through the ward, Helion,” I demanded. We needed to move faster. He nodded curtly and opened the ward wide enough for us to step through. Before we moved, I looked to Tarquin. We planned this mission with him over dinner. We plotted and thought we were smart, patting ourselves on our backs. His youth gave him the excuse of naivety and inexperience. I couldn’t claim the same; I’d seen war before. The Night Court made a culture from power and death. I could blame Tarquin for all the failings of this night but really, it rested with me. “You have it, I assume,” I nodded to the Book in his arms. His arms tightened around it. “It needs to get back to the war camp. Go,” I jerked my head at Tarquin and Helion. “Cresseida, please go with your High Lord.” 

I guess it was a good thing she resisted abandoning us immediately. Eventually, duty won out and she stood besides Tarquin. “I will winnow them and return,” Helion said. He didn’t give me a chance to tell him no. He vanished from sight in a blink. 

Training was only so good if you relied on it. That was the goal afterall. That when the pain settles into your bones and panic has done away with all logical thought, you could rely on training to take over. I’d lived long enough to know that my training and reflexes were now inseparable. I thought that was synonymous with my instincts, somehow all bundled up as one, but I was wrong. My instincts were a separate entity with a will of their own. 

Once I was through, I could smell it. The blood laced with lilac and all my instincts threw out my centuries of training. I raced through the woods without a thought. I was chased by my brothers. I wished for the danger. Already, magic slipped out of me to snap and crackle at my sides. That wasn’t so good. I had bypassed all the Night Court abilities and gone directly to releasing my raw, unadulterated magic. It crackled in my veins and I wanted someone to direct it at.

_ Give me a tangible enemy _ .  _ Give me my mate. _

I was given neither. 

I was given a clearing in the woods, coated in scents with no owners present. There was one body but I knew it wasn’t my mate. I knew the slope of her shoulders, curve of her spine like the back of my hand. I traced them countless times through nights spent bathing and loving. This female was blonde and crumpled. She laid in her own blood but Feyre’s was mixed in as well. Beyond that, I couldn’t discern more besides the obvious; my mate was gone. My armor felt too heavy. 

Lucien was first to my side. “Who is that?” he asked, crouching at her side. The blue cloak was the first hint. This was all a cruel joke against me. I knew it had to be, like my history had personally come to take revenge on me. Lucien turned her over and Ianthe’s unseeing eyes stared up at me. 

“That’s Ianthe,” Azriel said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. Cassian stood quiet besides me but not for long, he was trudging ahead into the woods to search around us. 

“Who is that?” Lucien asked. His fingers found her silver circlet resting on her forehead. “She’s a High Priestess,” he said thoughtfully. Lucien likely had more respect for the practice but as he would find out shortly, the Priestesses had no friends in the Night Court. 

Cassian snorted from across the clearing. We looked at him. He bent down and hoisted a sword from the ground. “It’s Feyre’s,” he said hoarsely. 

No one wanted to say it and I didn’t blame them. “Feyre’s been taken by Hybern,” I nodded, biting my inner cheek. “Tamlin was the spy,” I sighed. 

“How do you figure?” Lucien rose from his crouch. 

“It’s not the fucking time for your loyalty, Lucien,” Cassian snapped. Realizing what he’d said, he raised his fist to his mouth and turned away to search the woods. Azriel went to Cassian’s side, laying a hand on his shoulder and speaking in quiet tones. 

Lucien shrugged off Cassian to turn to me. “Tamlin is missing too. Ianthe would have been...welcome in his court. We watched Tamlin; if I had known Ianthe was with him, we would have watched her too. She was the messenger.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Lucien whispered. “He wouldn’t work with Hybern.” 

I had to force my temper from lashing at him. He was just as blind to this as we were. “Another day, Lucien, I’d maybe have agreed. But the male you knew is gone and whoever took his place just kidnapped my mate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thesan took care of the legions and brought them back to the war camp. Someone else took care of the rest of it, I didn’t really care who. We moved at a sedate pace from Adriata. My feet could have dragged for all I cared. I wanted Feyre to pop out of the woods, smiling and laughing. Likely covered in mud but still happy. We might have gotten the Book but it was still a failure. All I’d return from Adriata with was Feyre’s sword, clutched numbly in my hands. If I looked too hard at the blade I would enter a pit I’d never rise from. I didn’t⸺ couldn’t think about what this meant. 

Helion met us outside the wards. He didn’t comment on the absence of Tamlin and Feyre. I stopped myself from debating if that made him perceptive or complicit. At the moment, I’d see enemies in everyone if I looked hard enough. His golden eyes laid on me for a long moment before he nodded solemnly, head tilting low enough to have been a bow. 

I didn’t care for staying in the war camps. I couldn’t force myself to walk to our tent. I would not sleep in that bed. Nausea roiled inside me. I didn’t think Velaris would be any better but it would be safe for me, in case my sanity slipped in the meantime. I didn’t know how long I could go on remaining this numb, refusing to look into the dark pit that would swallow me up. The mating bond was once a glimmer of light that I could look to for assurance and safety. Now it was the dark forest path where memories would chase me into the waiting clutches of shame. Fear would finish me off then. 

For now, at least, I would block it from my mind; later, I would face it. Not tonight. 

“We will be going back tonight,” I said when we were back in the Night Court’s camp. No one spoke. I didn’t look for confirmation, just winnowed us four back. Feyre’s sword still held tightly in my hand. I had to move forward. I had to find her and reach her. I needed to go to her but my family would not let me from their sights tonight, not until we could rest and replan. It all felt wrong to be going home one short. Cassian had taken Feyre’s spot at my right and I kept glancing at him like he’d step back and Feyre would be there.

Velaris was reflectively solemn at our arrival. For once, I wasn’t proud of my beautiful city because it seemed so empty. I didn’t want to relish in my peaceful city. I used to believe this place was a testament to how the world  _ could  _ be. How pure Velaris remained while the world around it crumbled only made me disgusted with it, my ancestors for hiding it away and with myself for ever continuing the tradition. If the entire world was burning, so would Velaris. Nothing made this place special besides how shielded it was and I could see for myself understanding how  _ wrong  _ that was now. Beauty shouldn’t be cooped up like this. True goodness was something everyone had or not at all. 

I swallowed hard and bowed my head. My thoughts were poisoned from my own suffering; I couldn’t act the High Lord’s role tonight, not when my own pain still spread through me like disease. We entered the townhouse quietly. I didn’t know why I did so. I wanted to go to the House of Wind. I wanted to be alone. 

_ Wait _ ,  _ yes. I know why I am here.  _ I had yet to inform Nesta and Elain that I’d let their youngest sister be taken. My tongue felt heavy inside my mouth. 

** The sound of sniffling caught all our ears. We walked into the sitting room to find Nesta on the settee with Elain; Elain’s head buried in Nesta’s neck while her body shook. Nesta glanced up at us, tears leaking from her eyes. Her face was frozen in fear. I felt the odd relief that I would not be the bearer of this news:  _ they knew already _ . Elain lifted from her sister’s hold though Nesta kept her arms protectively, warmly around her younger sister. Elain’s eyes were red and face puffy, hair in disarray; she searched us until her eyes found me and she hiccuped. “I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have been made a Seer.” **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This concludes Renew

Thank you for following me on this story/ACOMAF rewrite. The third story/ACOWAR rewrite will begin on 01/04 EST; I am sorry that it means a break and I hope I do not lose your trust, nor your faithful attendance. I honestly want to deliver a story just as long and (hopefully) as thoughtful as this one. I will be checking this comment board in the meantime to ensure I haven't completely abandoned you guys. Enjoy the cliffhanger while it lasts because I assure you, I'll be tying all those loose ends in the next installment. :)

Best,

Lilypad_Padlily


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